Recreations of an Anthologist

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Dodd, Mead, 1904 - 228 oldal
"So far as I am aware no one has hitherto drawn attention to the obvious fact that the motives of the collector of buttons and of boot-heels are closely akin to those of the literary anthologists who gather into a single volume the scattered poems or prose specimens which seem to belong together." -- Introduction

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85. oldal - Go, wretch, resign the presidential chair, Disclose thy secret measures, foul or fair. Go, search with curious eye, for horned frogs, Mid the wild wastes of Louisianian bogs; Or, where Ohio rolls his turbid stream, Dig for huge bones, thy glory and thy theme.
106. oldal - ON THE COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE UNDERNEATH this sable hearse Lies the subject of all verse: Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother: Death, ere thou hast slain another Fair, and learned, and good as she, Time shall throw a dart at thee.
161. oldal - This Bouillabaisse a noble dish is — A sort of soup or broth or brew, Or hotchpotch of all sorts of fishes, That Greenwich never could outdo ; Green herbs, red peppers, mussels, saffron, Soles, onions, garlic, roach, and dace : All these you eat at TERRE'S tavern, In that one dish of Bouillabaisse.
95. 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 But the heart somehow seems all squeezed out by the mind, Who — But hey-day!
24. oldal - Un soneto me manda hacer Violante, que en mi vida me he visto en tal [aprieto : catorce versos dicen que es soneto ; burla burlando van los tres delante. Yo pensé que no hallara consonante, y estoy a la mitad de otro cuarteto; mas si me veo en el primer terceto, no hay cosa en los cuartetos que me es[pante. Por el primer terceto voy entrando, y aun parece que entré con pie derecho, pues fin con este verso le voy dando.
158. oldal - E'en in thy native regions, how I blush To hear the Pennsylvanians call thee Mush! On Hudson's banks, while men of Belgic spawn Insult and eat thee by the name Suppawn, All spurious appellations, void of truth ; I've better known thee from my earliest youth : Thy name is Hasty-Pudding!
61. oldal - An old looking-glass. Somebody finds out the secret of making all the images that have been reflected in it pass back again across its surface.
205. oldal - Galleth the crook of the young man's elbow ; / forget not, for I that youth have been. Smith was aforetime the Lothario gay. Yet once, I mind me, Smith was forced to stay Close in his room. Not calm, as I, was he ; But his noise brought no pleasaunce, verily. Small ease he gat of playing on the bones, Or hammering on his stovepipe, that I see.
144. oldal - PESSIMIST AND OPTIMIST. THIS one sits shivering in Fortune's smile, Taking his joy with bated, doubtful breath : This other, gnawed by hunger, all the while Laughs in the teeth of Death.
95. oldal - There is Bryant, as quiet, as cool, and as dignified, As a smooth, silent iceberg, that never is ignified, Save when by reflection 't is kindled o' nights With a semblance of flame by the chill Northern Lights.

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