You and I (Google eBook)

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Macmillan, 1914 - Poetry - 234 pages
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Page 61 - LOVE MY LIFE, BUT NOT TOO WELL" I LOVE my life, but not too well To give it to thee like a flower, So it may pleasure thee to dwell Deep in its perfume but an hour. I love my life, but not too well. I love my life, but not too well To sing it note by note away, So to thy soul the song may tell The beauty of the desolate day. I love my life, but not too well...
Page 16 - The beauty knows her royal business too, To light the world, and does it night by night When her gay lord, the sun, gives up his job. I am her slave; I wake and watch and run From dark till dawn beside her. All the while She hums there softly, purring with delight Because men bring the riches of the earth To feed her hungry fires. I do her will And dare not disobey, for her right hand Is power, her left is terror, and her anger Is havoc.
Page 18 - Destructive furies, rescue her even her From the fierce rashness of her truant mood, And make me lord of far and near a moment, Startling the mystery. Last night I did it Alone here with my hand upon her heart, I faced the mounting fiends and whipped them down; And never a wink from the long file of lamps Betrayed her to the world. So there she sits, Mounted on all the ages, at the peak Of time. The first man dreamed of light, and dug The sodden ignorance away, and cursed The darkness;...
Page 66 - FAREWELL GOOD-BYE! no, do not grieve that it is over, The perfect hour; That the winged joy, sweet honey-loving rover, Flits from the flower. Grieve not it is the law. Love will be flying Yes, love and all. Glad was the living blessed be the dying. Let the leaves fall.
Page 6 - The white-tiled immaculate kitchen, with many little round blue fires, where white-clad cooks are making spiced and flavored dishes. The cool cellars filled with meats and fruits, or layered with sealed and bottled wines mellowing softly in the darkness. The invisible stories of furnaces and machines, burrowing deep down into the earth, where grimy workmen are heavily laboring. The many-windowed stories of little homes and shelters and sleeping-places, reaching up into the night like some miraculous...
Page 5 - ... the silver band over their hair and the little black caps obliterating their ears. The telegraph tickers sounding their perpetual chit chit-chit from the uttermost ends of the earth. The waiters, in black swallow-tails and white aprons, passing here and there with trays...
Page 239 - The real poetical imagination of it is unchangeable; the allegory, subtle and profound and yet simple, is cast into the form of a dramatic narrative, which moves with unconventional freedom to a finely impressive climax; and the reader, who began in idle curiosity, finds his intelligence more and more engaged until, when he turns the last page, he has the feeling of one who has been moving in worlds not realized, and communing with great if mysterious The London Globe.
Page 100 - Of fathers boldBaffled longings, Hopes untold Gave to you A heart of fire, Love like deep waters, Brave desire. Ah, when youth's rapture Went out in pain, And all seemed over, Was all in vain?
Page 145 - The invisible wheels go softly round and round Light is the tread of brazen'footed Power. Spirits of air, caged in the iron tower, Sing as they labor with a purring sound. The abysmal fires, grated and chained and bound, Burn white and still, in swift obedience cower; While far and wide and myriad lamps, aflower, Glow like star'gardens and the night confound.
Page 20 - Her servant through the quiet night; and thus I lay my hand upon the Pleiades And feel their throb of fire. Grandly she gives To me unworthy; woman inscrutable, Scatters her splendors through my darkness, leads me Far out into the workshop of the worlds. There I can feel those infinite energies Our little earth just gnaws at through the ether, And see the light our sunshine hides. Out there, Close to the heart of life, I am at peace.

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