Phillida

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John W. Lovell Company, 1891 - Young women - 280 pages
 

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Page 86 - Had you, with these the same, but brought a mind ! Some women do so. Had the mouth there urged " God and the glory ! never care for gain, The present by the future, what is that? Live for fame, side by side with Agnolo! Rafael is waiting: up to God, all three!
Page 99 - He looked at her, as a lover can ; She looked at him, as one who awakes, — The past was a sleep, and her life began.
Page 75 - Where is the use of the lip's red charm, The heaven of hair, the pride of the brow, And the blood that blues the inside arm, — "Unless we turn, as the soul knows how, The earthly gift to an end divine? 185 A lady of clay is as good, I trow.
Page 191 - I SAID - Then, dearest, since 'tis so, Since now at length my fate I know, Since nothing all my love avails, Since all, my life seemed meant for, fails, Since this was written and needs must be My whole heart rises up to bless Your name in pride and thankfulness ! Take back the hope you gave, - I claim Only a memory of the same, - And this beside, if you will not blame, Your leave for one more last ride with me.
Page 5 - My love is fair, my love is gay, As fresh as bin the flowers in May, And of my love my roundelay, My merry merry merry roundelay, Concludes with Cupid's curse, — They that do...
Page 166 - Come, thou monarch of the vine, Plumpy Bacchus, with pink eyne : " In thy vats our cares be drown'd ; With thy grapes our hairs be crown'd ; Cup us, till the world go round ; Cup us, till the world go round ! Cces.
Page 50 - MOVE eastward, happy earth, and leave Yon orange sunset waning slow : From fringes of the faded eve, O, happy planet, eastward go ; Till over thy dark shoulder glow Thy silver sister-world, and rise To glass herself in dewy eyes That watch me from the glen below. Ah, bear me with thee, smoothly borne, Dip forward under starry light, And move me to my marriage-morn, And round again to happy night.
Page 178 - IN the lone tent, waiting for victory, She stands with eyes marred by the mists of pain, Like some wan lily overdrenched with rain : The clamorous clang of arms, the ensanguined sky, War's ruin, and the wreck of chivalry To her proud soul no common fear can bring: Bravely she tarrieth for her Lord the King, Her soul a-flame with passionate ecstasy. O Hair of Gold ! O Crimson Lips ! O Face Made for the luring and the love of man...
Page 192 - And while the work was hard and her pride often rebelled at the servile position she occupied, her heart was lighter than it had been for many a day.

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