Deborah: A Play in Three Acts

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John Lane, 1923 - 71 pages
 

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Page 28 - Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, Bless the bed that I lie on. Four corners to my bed, Four angels round my head; One to watch and one to pray And two to bear my soul away.
Page 14 - For us, with lives so hazardous, to love Is like a poor girl's game of being a queen. What good are all these marvellous desires That seem to hold life in mastery ? They are Dreamt things only. Men make no more of them Than a hawk would make of a spider's mesh, when life Is fearfully desiring towards death.
Page 17 - I see a man's life like a little flame Clinging to one end of a burning spill ; And the man's in the grasp of a great anger, Who is for shaking the last glimmer of life From off him, as you shake the fire...
Page 16 - ... ten years ago such vividness - or such hectic and excited striving after vividness - as in Mr Abercrombie? In his new play - where he redresses the longtroubled balance by putting into the mouths of fishermen such poetry as used to be held too good for any but kings - a man speaks of a plague thus : The whole earth's peoples have been fiercely caught Like torn small papers in a wind, in this Great powerful ailing. Another speaks of a sailor : With the ribs of his breast crusht like a trodden...
Page 36 - Is it only a small thing to you, this That once was David's?
Page 9 - There is no help for us ; we are left alone, Left in the power of this flying thing That hates our lives...
Page 59 - O, now, God rest the little one's soul : he died • Unchristened, and the Gabriel Hounds are out! Here we two sit and warm us at the fire, And yonder in the darkness and the wind The little soul of Miriam's stillborn child Runs crying from the mouths of the Gabriel Hounds! Deborah.
Page 50 - For there's naught else your soul will drink of life. Barnaby. O, but it's not so easy for me to leave her! A deal of comfort calls me here ; and she Keeps all of it, — she's all the little close Sweetness of comfortable wonted life Which would grip firm about me ; and its that — That is the thing I must be cruel with, And to myself, too, I must be cruel.
Page 71 - O, she ran So swift, and calling as she went out loud, Bent almost double for the strength of wind, I could not have believed the like. My breath Is almost blown out of my poor body ! Pray God Deborah's got some brandy here. Poor lass ! her path would take her right to the...

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