Poet Lore, 17. kötetWriter's Center, 1906 |
Részletek a könyvből
1 - 5 találat összesen 100 találatból.
5. oldal
... enters quickly . ) Elga . Starschenski ! Starschenski . Elga ? Elga . We must have the horses out and hunt today . Starschenski . Yes ; we shall hunt . But not over the young grain . Elga . Over grain , hedges , fences and ditches ...
... enters quickly . ) Elga . Starschenski ! Starschenski . Elga ? Elga . We must have the horses out and hunt today . Starschenski . Yes ; we shall hunt . But not over the young grain . Elga . Over grain , hedges , fences and ditches ...
10. oldal
... enters . ) Starschenski . What do you want , Timoska ? The Steward . I disturb you . I will come some other time . Starschenski . Come here , Timoska . - Pardon me - I have had to form the habit of managing my estate seriously . There ...
... enters . ) Starschenski . What do you want , Timoska ? The Steward . I disturb you . I will come some other time . Starschenski . Come here , Timoska . - Pardon me - I have had to form the habit of managing my estate seriously . There ...
13. oldal
Who's there ? Dortka is that you ? DORTKA , her maid , enters . ) Dortka . Yes , my lady . Elga . Has the count ridden away ? Dortka . Yes , my lady . He has gone . I heard him say to the stew- ard : I have so much to attend to , I ...
Who's there ? Dortka is that you ? DORTKA , her maid , enters . ) Dortka . Yes , my lady . Elga . Has the count ridden away ? Dortka . Yes , my lady . He has gone . I heard him say to the stew- ard : I have so much to attend to , I ...
21. oldal
... enters , a little timidly . She places a large bunch of violets on the table , and keeps a smaller one in her hand . ) Elga . That is right . Come hither . Well the master's buttonhole ! Well • ? · ? Put it in Dortka ( kneels before ...
... enters , a little timidly . She places a large bunch of violets on the table , and keeps a smaller one in her hand . ) Elga . That is right . Come hither . Well the master's buttonhole ! Well • ? · ? Put it in Dortka ( kneels before ...
22. oldal
... enters ) . Starschenski . See , mother , what a very pretty plaything Elga has . Marina . Oh , this is where you disappeared to ! I might have looked . Starschenski . Little Elga is rich . There , take her , mother ! puts her in her ...
... enters ) . Starschenski . See , mother , what a very pretty plaything Elga has . Marina . Oh , this is where you disappeared to ! I might have looked . Starschenski . Little Elga is rich . There , take her , mother ! puts her in her ...
Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
Akoolina Ivanovna Antonovna artist Axel beautiful Belshazzar better Bezsemenov Biskra brother Bruno Caliban called Cecilia Cecilia's betrothed child dear Dimitri door Dortka drama dream drink Elda Elena Elga enters Exit eyes father feel Fima George Keats German girl give goes Grischka Guimard hand Haus heart Hein human Ibsen Jehoikim Keats king laughing Lena Lindgren Lisa Listen literature live look Marina marry matter Melanie Misha mother Nazar Neregel never Nicolaievna night Nitocris nurse Oginski Pavel Pertshichin Peter play poem poet Polja Protassoff Rabsares Roman Ruben Schishkin Setebos Shakespeare short story Simoom smile soul speak spirit Starschenski Stepanida Steward talk Taro Tatiana Tchepurny tell Teterev thee things thou thought Tobit Troshin truth Ture understand Vaghin verse Wait Wassilyevich Whitman wife woman words writer Yegor Zwetahyeva
Népszerű szakaszok
79. oldal - And bade me creep past. No ! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers The heroes of old, Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears Of pain, darkness and cold. For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, The black minute's at end, And the elements...
71. oldal - Rise the blue Franconian mountains, Nuremberg, the ancient, stands. Quaint old town of toil and traffic, quaint old town of art and song, Memories haunt thy pointed gables, like the rooks that round them throng: Memories of the Middle Ages, when the emperors, rough and bold, Had their dwelling in thy castle, time-defying, centuries old; And thy brave and thrifty burghers boasted, in their uncouth rhyme, That their great imperial city stretched its hand through every clime.
105. oldal - And live alone in the bee-loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings.
67. oldal - And with them the Being Beauteous, Who unto my youth was given, More than all things else to love me, And is now a saint in heaven. With a slow and noiseless footstep Comes that messenger divine, Takes the vacant chair beside me, Lays her gentle hand in mine. And she sits and gazes at me With those deep and tender eyes, Like the stars, so still and saint-like, Looking downward from the skies.
114. oldal - ... heavy years increase — The horror quickening still from year to year, The consummation coming past escape When I shall know most, and yet least enjoy — When all my works wherein I prove my worth, Being present still to mock me in men's mouths, Alive still, in the praise of such as thou, I, I the feeling, thinking, acting man, The man who loved his life so over-much, Sleep in my urn.
67. oldal - WHEN the hours of Day are numbered, And the voices of the Night Wake the better soul, that slumbered, To a holy, calm delight; Ere the evening lamps are lighted, And, like phantoms grim and tall, Shadows from the fitful fire-light Dance upon the parlor wall; Then the forms of the departed Enter at the open door; The beloved, the true-hearted, Come to visit me once more...
72. oldal - O poet saturnine! And strive to make my steps keep pace with thine. The air is filled with some unknown perfume; The congregation of the dead make room For thee to pass; the votive tapers shine; Like rooks that haunt Ravenna's groves of pine, The hovering echoes fly from tomb to tomb. From the confessionals I hear arise Rehearsals of forgotten tragedies, And lamentations from the crypts below And then a voice celestial that begins With the pathetic words, "Although your sins As scarlet be...
106. oldal - TO HELEN. Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome.
84. oldal - I know I am deathless, I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by a carpenter's compass, I know I shall not pass like a child's carlacue cut with a burnt stick at night.
91. oldal - Now understand me well — it is provided in the essence of things that from any fruition of success, no matter what, shall come forth something to make a greater struggle necessary.