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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 laugh Lena Lindgren Lisa Listen literature live look Marina marry master 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 Tatiana's room Tchepurny tell Teterev thee things thou thought Tobit Troshin truth Ture understand Vaghin verse Wait Whitman wife woman words writer Yegor Zwetahyeva
Page 79 - 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...
Page 71 - 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.
Page 105 - 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.
Page 67 - 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.
Page 114 - ... 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.
Page 67 - 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...
Page 72 - 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...
Page 106 - 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.
Page 84 - 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.