Book overview
Full view - 1919 - 116 pages - Fiction |
Book overview
ReviewsWe haven't found any reviews in the usual places.Write review Common terms and phrasesart thou beauty beckon blow Blue Smoke blue wing breast breath Canterbury bells censer child dead dear deep door dost dream dust eyes face fade faint falling leaf Fame Fate flame flower German God's goes Gott grey Grief hand harp hath hear the women heart heavenly homeless House of Love house was empty Italy joys knowest thou laughing leaf we heard Life's light little mother lover Marching Women memory monoplane moon morning mortal night o'er pain passing passionate Poet rest scornful shadow falls shoulders sing sleep smile soft Song sorrow soul Spain spirit splendor star stir strange sudden Summer Song Summer's gypsy feet sweet Tanglewood tears thee thine thou wilt thrushes tonight trees wait waking walk Walled Garden watch wear weary wild wind wine wings women marching wonder young youth Popular passagesTO-DAY I have grown taller from walking with the trees, The seven sister-poplars who go softly in a line; And I think my heart is whiter for its parley with a star That trembled out at nightfall and hung above the pine. The call-note of a redbird from the cedars in the dusk Woke his happy mate within me to an answer free and fine ; And a sudden angel beckoned from a column of blue smoke — Lord, who am I that they should stoop — these holy folk of thine? Page 19 They have taken his horse and plume, They have left him to plod, and fume For a hero's scope and room! They have curbed his fighting pride, They have bade him burrow and hide With a million, side by side: Look — into the air he springs, Fighting with wings! He... Page 106 ... them fight for their glory, openly, And plain men for their lands and for their homes, And heady youths, who go to see the fun, Blaspheme not God. True, maybe we might leave The God of Germany to some poor frau Who cannot go, who can but wait and mourn, Except that she will teach Him to her sons — A God quite scornful of the Slavic soul, And much concerned to keep Alsace-Lorraine. They should go godless, too — the poor, benumbed, Crushed, anguished women, till their hearts can hold A greater... Page 102 Dropp'd feathers from the wings of God My little songs and snatches are, So light He does not hear them fall As He goes by, from star to star. Dropp'd feathers from the wings of God I find, and braid them in my hair; Men heed them not — they only make My soul unto herself more fair. Page 73 Unser Gott ! Our strength is Unser Gott ! Not that light-minded Bon Dieu of France ! ") I think we all have made our God too small." There was a young man, a good while ago, Who taught that doctrine . . . but they murdered him Because he wished to share the Jewish God With other folk. They are long-lived, these fierce Old hating Gods of nations ; but at last There surely will be spilled enough of blood To drown them all ! The deeps of sea and air, Of old the seat of gods, no more are safe, For mines... Page 101 My little daughter is a tea-rose, Satin to the touch, Wine to the lips, And a faint, delirious perfume . . . But my little son Is a June apple, Firm and cool And scornful of too much sweetness, But full of tang and flavor, And better than bread to the hungry. O wild winds and clumsy, pilfering bees, With the whole world to be wanton in, Will you not spare my little tea-rose? And O ruthless blind creatures, Who lay eggs of evil at the core of life, Pass by my one red apple, That is so firm and sound! Page 88 My cloak for armor — for my tent The roadside tree ; And I — I know not how you bear A roof betwixt you and the blue, Brother, the creed would stifle me That shelters you. Yet, that same light that floods at dawn Your cloistered room, your cryptic stair, Wakes me too — sleeping by the hedge — To morning prayer... Page 80 The Heart Knoweth": Sometimes my little woe is lulled to rest. Its clamor shamed by some old poet's rage — Tumult of hurrying hoof, and battle rage. And dying knight, and trampled warrior crest. Stern faces, old heroic souls unblest. Eye me with scorn, as they my grief would gauge, A mere child, schooled to weep upon the stage, Tricked for a part of woe, and sombre drest. "Lo, who art thou... Page 59 THROUGH Tanglewood the thrushes trip, As brown as any clod, But in their spotted throats are hung The vesper-bells of God. And I know little secret truths, And hidden things of good, Since I have heard the thrushes sing At dusk, in Tanglewood. Page 18 And then they sang ; she said it shook the heart. The women sobbed ; tears salted bearded lips Unheeded ; and my friend looked back and saw A young girl crumple in her mother's arms. They carried out a score of them, she said, While German hearts, through bursting German throats Poured out, Ein Feste Burg 1st Unser... Page 101 Other editions
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