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232 East Erie A. E. Housman Alfred Kreymborg American Amy Lowell Anna Wickham Anthology autumn beauty birds blue Charlotte Mew Chicago Chinese Cocteau color dance dark dead death dreams earth editor English eyes feel feet flame flowers gold gray hand Harriet Monroe heart Henry hills Hodge immortal J. C. Squire Jessica Nelson North John Mortimer Juba laughter leaves light lines lips Lola Ridge Louis Untermeyer lyric magazine Marion Strobel mind Miss mist modern mood moon mountain Muna Lee Negro never night pass Pearl Andelson ping poems poetic poetry Poetry's poets prizes prose prosody published Reviews rhyme rhythm road shadow Shelley sing sleep snow song Sonnets soul South southern speech spirit spring stars things thought translations trees twilight Untermeyer verse voices volume Williams wind wings wonder words Yvor Winters
Seite 208 - The loathsome mask has fallen, the man remains Sceptreless, free, uncircumscribed, but man Equal, unclassed, tribeless, and nationless, Exempt from awe, worship, degree, the king Over himself; just, gentle, wise: but man Passionless; no, yet free from guilt or pain, Which were, for his will made or suffered them, Nor yet exempt, tho...
Seite 208 - ... Exempt from awe, worship, degree, the king Over himself; just, gentle, wise: but man Passionless? — no, yet free from guilt or pain. Which were, for his will made or suffered them, Nor yet exempt, though ruling them like slaves, From chance, and death, and mutability, The clogs of that which else might oversoar The loftiest star of unascended heaven, Pinnacled dim in the intense inane.
Seite 212 - I would fain Be what it is my destiny to be, The saviour and the strength of suffering man, Or sink into the original gulf of things: There is no agony, and no solace left ; Earth can console. Heaven can torment no more.
Seite 217 - To Waken An Old Lady Old age is a flight of small cheeping birds skimming bare trees above a snow glaze. Gaining and failing they are buffeted by a dark wind — But what? On harsh weedstalks the flock has rested, the snow is covered with broken seedhusks and the wind tempered by a shrill piping of plenty.
Seite 208 - Rise like Lions after slumber In unvanquishable number, Shake your chains to earth like dew Which in sleep had fallen on you Ye are many - they are few.
Seite 210 - Poets are the hierophants of an unapprehended inspiration; the mirrors of the gigantic shadows which futurity casts upon the present; the words which express what they understand not; the trumpets which sing to battle, and feel not what they inspire; the influence which is moved not, but moves. Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world.
Seite 218 - I lived with my husband. The plumtree is white today with masses of flowers. Masses of flowers load the cherry branches and color some bushes yellow and some red but the grief in my heart is stronger than they for though they were my joy formerly, today I notice them and turned away forgetting.
Seite 153 - THE FARMER'S BRIDE Three Summers since I chose a maid, Too young maybe — but more's to do At harvest-time than bide and woo. When us was wed she turned afraid Of love and me and all things human; Like the shut of a winter's day. Her smile went out, and Wasn'ta woman — More like a little frightened fay. One night, in the Fall, she runned away. "Out 'mong the sheep, her be...
Seite 153 - As well as most, but like a mouse: Happy enough to chat and play With birds and rabbits and such as they, So long as men-folk keep away. 'Not near, not near!