A Fable for CriticsHoughton, Mifflin, 1890 - 101 oldal |
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American Apollo bard believe blow bore brain Bull chance choose comes conceit crown Daphne dear delight doubt e'en ears earth Edition Emerson English eyes Fable for Critics fancy feel fellow fresh gibbet goes grace gratis Greek half hard hast hear heart hint hunt JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL John Bull JOHN NEAL keep kind laid laugh lily look metre mind Miranda Muse NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE nature naught ne'er never North Pole o'er once one's person phiz Phoebus poems poet poor Portrait praise pretty prose Quaker quiet rhyme Riverside round scarce seems shudder to think somehow sometimes song sort soul stand sure tell tender there's things Thou thought tree trip-hammer true turn twixt UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN verse wait whole wood words Wordsworth worth write written wrong Yankee
Népszerű szakaszok
91. oldal - There is Lowell, who's striving Parnassus to climb With a whole bale of isms tied together with rhyme, He might get on alone, spite of brambles and boulders, But he can't with that bundle he has on his shoulders, The top of the hill he will ne'er come nigh reaching Till he learns the distinction 'twixt singing and preaching...
78. oldal - There comes Poe, with his raven, like Barnaby Rudge, Three fifths of him genius and two fifths sheer fudge, Who talks like a book of iambs and pentameters, In a way to make people of common sense damn metres, Who has written some things quite the best of their kind, But the heart somehow seems all squeezed out by the mind, Who — But hey-day!
44. oldal - There are persons, mole-blind to the soul's make and style, Who insist on a likeness 'twixt him and Carlyle; To compare him with Plato would be vastly fairer, Carlyle's the more burly, but E.
66. oldal - s wanted, he goes to the task As a cooper would do in composing a cask ; He picks out the staves, of their qualities heedful, Just hoops them together as tight as is needful, And, if the best fortune should crown the attempt, he Has made at the most something wooden and empty.
55. oldal - Every word that he speaks has been fierily furnaced In the blast of a life that has struggled in earnest : There he stands, looking more like a ploughman than priest, If not dreadfully awkward, not graceful at least, His gestures all downright and same, if you will, As of brown-fisted Hobnail in hoeing a drill ; But his periods fall on you, stroke after stroke, Like the blows of a lumberer felling an oak...
85. oldal - Mix well, and while stirring, hum o'er, as a spell, The fine old English Gentleman, simmer it well, Sweeten just to your own private liking, then strain, That only the finest and clearest remain, Let it stand out of doors till a soul it receives From the warm lazy sun loitering down through green leaves, And you '11 find a choice nature, not wholly deserving A name either English or Yankee, — just Irving.
45. oldal - s most abounding, the other 's to seek ; C.'s generals require to be seen in the mass, — E.'s specialties gain if enlarged by the glass ; C. gives Nature and God his own fits of the blues, And rims common-sense things with mystical hues, — E. sits in a mystery calm and intense, And looks coolly around him with sharp common sense; C. shows you how every-day matters unite With the dim transdiurnal recesses of night, — While E., in a plain, preternatural way, Makes mysteries matters of mere every...
64. oldal - T is as if a rough oak that for ages had stood, With his gnarled bony branches like ribs of the wood, Should bloom, after cycles of struggle and scathe, With a single anemone trembly and rathe...
55. oldal - There is Bryant, as quiet, as cool, and as dignified, As a smooth, silent iceberg, that never is ignified, Save when by reflection 'tis kindled o' nights With a semblance of flame by the chill Northern Lights. He may rank (Griswold says so) first bard of your nation, (There's no doubt that he stands in supreme ice-olation,) Your topmost Parnassus he may set his heel on, But no warm applauses come, peal following peal on, — He's...
47. oldal - When they send him a dishful, and ask him to try 'em; He never suspects how the sly rogues came by 'em; He wonders why 't is there are none such his trees on, And thinks 'em the best he has tasted this season.