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Thomas Edward Brown, the Manx Poet: An Appreciation (Classic Reprint)
Selwyn G. Simpson
No preview available - 2017
Thomas Edward Brown, the Manx Poet: An Appreciation
Selwyn G. Simpson,J. M. Wilson
No preview available - 2017
Baynes beautiful Betsy Lee bless Bristol Channel Captain Hugh chap Christmas Rose Church Clifton Clifton College comin Complete Edition coorse couldn craythur CRYPT SCHOOL Dakyns dear death describes dialect divil Doctor English Enoch eyes face fancy father feelings Fo'c's'le Yarns footnote give goin Hall Caine heart heaven human humour Ibid idea Introductory Memoir island Isle J. R. Mozley Jack KING WILLIAM'S COLLEGE Kirk Maughold kiss Kitty laugh Lecture living look Manx Characters Manxman mother nature Nelly Nessy never night November Old John Old Kirk Braddan ould Oxford Pall Mall Magazine passage Pazon Gale poet poetry poor Ramsey Courier S. T. Irwin says Sherragh Vane sort soul speaks story sweet T. E. Brown tell Tess there's thing THOMAS EDWARD BROWN thou thought verses W. E. Henley wasn wife words writes
Page 134 - Here on this beach a hundred years ago, Three children of three houses, Annie Lee, The prettiest little damsel in the port, And Philip Ray the miller's only son, And Enoch Arden, a rough sailor's lad Made orphan by a winter shipwreck...
Page 134 - The little footprint daily wash'd away. A narrow cave ran in beneath the cliff: In this the children play'd at keeping house. Enoch was host one day, Philip the next, While Annie still was mistress; but at times Enoch would hold possession for a week: "This is my house and this my little wife.
Page 220 - But tenfold one is he, who feels all pains Not partial, knowing them As ripples parted from the gold-beaked stem, Wherewith God's galley onward ever strains. To him the sorrows are the tension-thrills Of that serene endeavour, Which yields to God for ever and for ever The joy that is more ancient than the hills.
Page 206 - I BENDED unto me a bough of May, That I might see and smell : It bore it in a sort of way, It bore it very well. But, when I let it backward sway, Then it were hard to tell With what a toss, with what a swing, The dainty thing Resumed its proper level, And sent me to the devil. I know it did — you doubt it ? I turned, and saw them whispering about it.
Page 204 - One evening our sunset was the real rose-pink you have heard of so much. It fades, you know, into a deathlike chalk-white. That is the most awful thing. A sort of spasm seems to come over her face, and in an instant she is a corpse, rigid, and oh so cold! Well, so she died, and you felt as if a great soul had ebbed away into the Heaven of Heavens : and thankful, but very sad, I went up to my room. I was reading by candle-light, for it gets dark immediately after sunset, when A.
Page 213 - MY GARDEN A GARDEN is a lovesome thing, God wot! Rose plot, Fringed pool, Ferned grot — The veriest school Of peace; and yet the fool Contends that God is not — Not God! in gardens! when the eve is cool? Nay, but I have a sign: Tis very sure God walks in mine.
Page 41 - My plan always was to recognize two lives as necessary — the one the outer kapelistic life of drudgery, the other the inner and cherished life of the spirit. It is true that the one has a tendency to kill the other, but it must not, and you must see that it does not. It's an awfully large order, but we really need three lives — the life of pedagogic activity, as strenuous as you like; the social life nicely arranged, and kept in hand, but never regarded as serious ; and the intellectual and spiritual...
Page 218 - OBVIAM I NEEDS must meet him, for he hath beset All roads that men do travel, hill and plain; Nor aught that breathes shall pass Unchallenged of his debt. But what and if, when I shall whet My front to meet him, then, as in a glass, Darkly, I shall behold that he is twain — Earthward a mask of jet, Heavenward a coronet Sun-flushed with roseate gleams — In any case It hardly can be called a mortal pain To meet whom met I ne'er shall meet again.
Page 36 - I made an appointment to see him in Oxford, and there, as chance would have it, I met him standing at the corner of St. Mary's Entry, in a somewhat Johnsonian attitude, four-square, his hands deep in his pockets to keep himself still, and looking decidedly volcanic. We very soon came to terms, and I left him there under promise to come to Clifton as my colleague at the beginning of the following Term ; and, needless to say, St.
Page 204 - ... reading by candle-light, for it gets dark immediately after sunset, when A. shrieked to me to come to the window. What a Resurrection — so gentle, so tender — like that sonnet of Milton's about his dead wife returning in vision ! The moon had risen ; and there was the Jungfrau— oh chaste, oh blessed saint in glory everlasting! Then all the elemental spirits that haunt crevasses, and hover around peaks, all the patient powers that bear up the rock buttresses, and...