Ideas of Good and EvilA. H. Bullen, 1903 - 341 lappuses |
No grāmatas satura
1.–5. rezultāts no 29.
1. lappuse
... heard , and perhaps of some whose names I have forgotten . I knew in my heart that the most of them wrote badly , and yet such romance clung about them , such a desire for Irish poetry was in all our minds , that I kept on saying , not ...
... heard , and perhaps of some whose names I have forgotten . I knew in my heart that the most of them wrote badly , and yet such romance clung about them , such a desire for Irish poetry was in all our minds , that I kept on saying , not ...
8. lappuse
... heard a baker , who was clever enough with his oven , deny that Tennyson could have known what he was writing when he wrote ' Warming his five wits , the white owl in the belfry sits , ' and once when I read out Omar Khayyam to one of ...
... heard a baker , who was clever enough with his oven , deny that Tennyson could have known what he was writing when he wrote ' Warming his five wits , the white owl in the belfry sits , ' and once when I read out Omar Khayyam to one of ...
16. lappuse
... heard a poem spoken with so delicate a sense of its rhythm , with so perfect a respect for its meaning , that if I were a wise man and could persuade a few people to learn the art I would never open a book of verses again . ) A friend ...
... heard a poem spoken with so delicate a sense of its rhythm , with so perfect a respect for its meaning , that if I were a wise man and could persuade a few people to learn the art I would never open a book of verses again . ) A friend ...
18. lappuse
... heard anything sung I did not hear the words , or if I did their natural pronunciation was altered and their natural music was altered , or it was drowned in another music which I did not understand . What was the good of writ- ing a ...
... heard anything sung I did not hear the words , or if I did their natural pronunciation was altered and their natural music was altered , or it was drowned in another music which I did not understand . What was the good of writ- ing a ...
33. lappuse
... heard her description . She thought the man in black was perhaps a Fleming of the sixteenth century , and I could see him . pass along narrow streets till he came to a narrow door with some rusty iron- work above it . He went in , and ...
... heard her description . She thought the man in black was perhaps a Fleming of the sixteenth century , and I could see him . pass along narrow streets till he came to a narrow door with some rusty iron- work above it . He went in , and ...
Citi izdevumi - Skatīt visu
Bieži izmantoti vārdi un frāzes
ancient Aran Islands artist beauty become believe Blake and trations body cave Celtic Celtic Literature colour Cythna Dæmons Dante death delight desire divine Divine Comedy dramatic dream emotion enchanted eternal Evil evoker of spirits eyes flame fountain gathered happy heart heaven Ideas Illus images imagination immortal intellectual Ireland Irish labour Lady Gregory Laon legends less light literature living Mabinogion Magic Matthew Arnold memory memory of nature mind modern moon mortal move mysterious nature never on-Avon painted passed passion perfect Philosophy Poetry play poems poet popular poetry praise Psaltery remember rhythm Richard II river Scholar Gipsy seemed seeress shadow Shakespeare shape Shelley Shelley's song soul speak spoke Star stone story Stradanus Stratford Stratford-on-Avon subtle symbolist tell theatre things thou thought tion tradition Tree understand verses vision voice William Blake woman words write wrote
Populāri fragmenti
207. lappuse - To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love, All pray in their distress, And to these virtues of delight Return their thankfulness. For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love, Is God our Father dear; And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love, Is man, His child and care. For Mercy has a human heart; Pity, a human face; And Love, the human form divine: And Peace, the human dress.
161. lappuse - Tired with all these, for restful death I cry, As, to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn, And gilded honour shamefully misplaced, And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, And strength by limping sway disabled, And art made tongue-tied by authority...
207. lappuse - For mercy, pity, peace, and love, Is God our Father dear ; And mercy, pity, peace, and love, Is man, His child and care. For Mercy has a human heart, Pity a human face ; And Love, the human form divine ; And Peace, the human dress.
99. lappuse - That thus enchains us to permitted ill. We might be otherwise, we might be all We dream of happy, high, majestical. Where is the love, beauty and truth we seek, But in our mind? and if we were not weak, Should we be less in deed than in desire?' 'Ay, if we were not weak — and we aspire How vainly to be strong!' said Maddalo; 'You talk Utopia.
103. lappuse - And death is a low mist which cannot blot The brightness it may veil. When lofty thought Lifts a young heart above its mortal lair, And love and life contend in it, for what Shall be its earthly doom, the dead live there And move like winds of light on dark and stormy air.
278. lappuse - I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows ; Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine...
180. lappuse - Artist in fear and doubt of his own original conception. The spirit of Titian was particularly active in raising doubts concerning the possibility of executing without a model, and when once he had raised the doubt, it became easy for him to snatch away the vision time after time...
275. lappuse - So they took the blossoms of the oak, and the blossoms of the broom, and the blossoms of the meadow-sweet, and produced from them a maiden, the fairest and most graceful that man ever saw. And they baptized her, and gave her the name of Flower-Aspect.
277. lappuse - More yellow was her head than the flower of the broom ; and her skin was whiter than the foam of the wave ; and fairer were her hands and her fingers than the blossoms of the wood-anemone amidst the spray of the meadow fountain.
318. lappuse - The more a poet rids his verses of heterogeneous knowledge and irrelevant analysis, and purifies his mind with elaborate art, the more does the little ritual of his verse resemble the great ritual of Nature, and become mysterious and inscrutable.