The Aesthetic Movement in England

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Reeves & Turner, 1882 - 143 pàgines
 

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Pàgina 114 - A pleasing land of drowsy-head it was, Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye ; And of gay castles in the clouds that pass, For ever flushing round a summer sky : There eke the soft delights, that witchingly Instil a wanton sweetness through the breast, And the calm pleasures, always hovered nigh ; But whate'er smacked of noyance or unrest Was far, far off expelled from this delicious nest.
Pàgina 114 - Was nought around but images of rest: Sleep-soothing groves, and quiet lawns between; .And flowery beds that slumbrous influence kest, From poppies breath'd; and beds of pleasant green, Where never yet was creeping creature seen. Meantime unnumber'd glittering streamlets play'd. And hurled every-where their waters sheen; That, as they bicker'd through the sunny glade, Though restless still themselves, a lulling murmur made.
Pàgina 36 - If you're anxious for to shine in the high aesthetic line as a man of culture rare, You must get up all the germs of the transcendental terms, and plant them everywhere. You must lie upon the daisies, and discourse in novel phrases of your complicated state of mind, The meaning doesn't matter if it's only idle chatter of a transcendental kind. And...
Pàgina 96 - Some tarnished epaulette - some sword — Poor toys to soothe such anguished pain. For not in quiet English fields Are these, our brothers, lain to rest, Where we might deck their broken shields With all the flowers the dead love best. For some are by the Delhi walls, And many in the Afghan land, And many where the Ganges falls Through seven mouths of shifting sand.
Pàgina 2 - They should go to nature in all singleness of heart, and walk with her laboriously and trustingly, having no other thought but how best to penetrate her meaning; rejecting nothing, selecting nothing, and scorning nothing.
Pàgina 96 - ... flown, And flapped wide wings in fiery fight ; But the sad dove, that sits alone In England — she hath no delight . In vain the laughing girl will lean To greet her love with love-lit eyes : Down in some treacherous black ravine, Clutching his flag, the dead boy lies.
Pàgina 94 - REQUIESCAT. TREAD lightly, she is near Under the snow, Speak gently, she can hear The daisies grow. All her bright golden hair Tarnished with rust, She that was young and fair Fallen to dust. Lily-like, white as snow, She hardly knew She was a woman, so Sweetly she grew.
Pàgina 94 - TREAD lightly, she is near Under the snow, Speak gently, she can hear The daisies grow. All her bright golden hair Tarnished with rust, She that was young and fair Fallen to dust. Lily-like, white as snow, She hardly knew She was a woman, so Sweetly she grew. Coffin-board, heavy stone, Lie on her breast, I vex my heart alone She is at rest. Peace, Peace, she cannot hear Lyre or sonnet, All my life's buried here, Heap earth upon it.
Pàgina 51 - It is this : whether or not the first and last requisite of art is to give no offence ; whether or not all that cannot be lisped in the nursery or fingered in the schoolroom is therefore to be cast out of the library; whether or not the domestic circle is to be for all men and writers the outer limit and extreme horizon of their world of work.
Pàgina 36 - French bean ! Though the Philistines may jostle, you will rank as an apostle in the high aesthetic band, If you walk down Piccadilly with a poppy or a lily in your mediaeval hand.

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