Poetry as a Representative Art: An Essay in Comparative Aesthetics

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G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1899 - Aesthetics - 356 pages

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Page 168 - Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,— " Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, " art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore: Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore !" Quoth the Raven,
Page 39 - River where ford there was none; But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late : For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.
Page 218 - They, looking back, all the eastern side beheld Of Paradise, so late their happy seat, Waved over by that flaming brand ; the gate With dreadful faces thronged, and fiery arms.
Page 282 - For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see, Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be ; Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of magic sails, Pilots of the purple twilight, dropping down with costly bales ; Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there rain'da ghastly dew From the- nations...
Page 153 - But his sagacious eye an inmate owns: By one, and one, the bolts full easy slide: — The chains lie silent on the footworn stones; The key turns, and the door...
Page 112 - While life's dark maze I tread, And griefs around me spread, Be Thou my guide; Bid darkness turn to day, Wipe sorrow's tears away, Nor let me ever stray From Thee aside. 4 When ends life's transient dream, When death's cold, sullen stream Shall o'er me roll, Blest Saviour, then, in love, Fear and distrust remove; O, bear me safe above, A ransomed souL KayPulmor.
Page 73 - E'en though it be a cross That raiseth me; Still all my song shall be, Nearer, my God, to thee, Nearer to Thee. 2 Though like the wanderer, The sun gone down, Darkness be over me, My rest a stone; Yet in my dreams I'd be Nearer, my God, to thee, Nearer to Thee.
Page 46 - I SPRANG to the stirrup, and Joris, and he ; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three ; " Good speed ! " cried the watch, as the gatebolts undrew ; "Speed...
Page 71 - Stormed at with shot and shelL Boldly they rode and well; Into the jaws of Death. Into the mouth of Hell Rode the six hundred.
Page 155 - Saturn, quiet as a stone, Still as the silence round about his lair; Forest on forest hung about his head Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there, Not so much life as on a summer's day Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass, But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.

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