For the Week-end

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J. Lane, 1907 - English fiction - 319 pages
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Page 153 - We saw the swallows gathering in the sky, And in the osier-isle we heard them noise. We had not to look back on summer joys, Or forward to a summer of bright dye : But in the largeness of the evening earth Our spirits grew as we went side by side. The hour became her husband and my bride.
Page 113 - Like the vase, in which roses have once been distilled — You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will. But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.
Page 5 - In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed; In war, he mounts the warrior's steed; In halls, in gay attire is seen; In hamlets, dances on the green. Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below, and saints above ; For love is heaven, and heaven is love.
Page 179 - I would be your wife most gladly ! ' (Here she twirled her fingers madly,) ' But in England I've a mate ! ' Yes ! you've asked me far too late, 'For in England I've a mate, 'Mr...
Page 39 - Shadows rising on you and me; The swallows are making them ready to fly. Wheeling out on a windy sky. Goodbye Summer! Goodbye! Goodbye! Goodbye Summer! Goodbye! Goodbye! Hush! a voice from the far away! "Listen and learn", it seems to say, "All the tomorrows shall be as today.
Page 178 - Two old chairs, and half a candle, One old jug without a handle,— These were all his worldly goods: In the middle of the woods, These were all the worldly goods, Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-B6, Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-B6.
Page 4 - Evening Standard ;—" Exceedingly realistic . . . but does not give the impression that anything is expatiated upon for the sake of effect. ... A daring but sincere and simple book . . . likely to attract a great deal of attention.
Page 77 - A woman, a dog, and a walnut tree/ The more you beat them, the better they be.
Page 195 - ... Call from the Gloom. Love, which is lust, is the Main of Desire. Love, which is lust, is the Centric Fire. So man and woman will keep their trust, Till the very Springs of the Sea run dust. Yea, each with the other will lose and win, Till the very Sides of the Grave fall in. For the strife of Love 's the abysmal strife, And the word of Love is the Word of Life. And they that go with the Word unsaid, Though they seem of the living, are damned and dead.
Page 11 - XVII Look down, dear eyes, look down, Lest you betray her gladness. Dear brows, do naught but frown, Lest men miscall my madness. Come not, dear hands, so near, Lest all besides come nearer. Dear heart, hold me less dear, Lest time hold nothing dearer. Keep me, dear lips, O, keep The great last word unspoken, Lest other eyes go weep, And other lives lie broken...

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