 If music be the food of love, play on ; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again ! it had a dying fall : O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing...  Twelfth night. Winter's tale - Page 5by William Shakespeare - 1788Full view - About this book
 | Joy Carden - Music - 1980 - 172 pages
...event. "Bring music! stir the brooding air with an etherial breath." "That strain again! O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, That breathes upon a bank of violets stealing and giving odour." Reader, were you at the concert on Friday? — If not, you have certainly lost a fine and rich repast... | |
 | André Gide - 1984 - 420 pages
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