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ain't Army beggar beneath blind blood blow blue Captain Cheer clear Cloth comes dead death deck deep drop earth English eyes face fight follow fought Gawd give goes hand head hear heart hold it's keep King knew land learned leave lift Light Line live look Lord Mary Master mind Mother never night once paid passed plain port pride road Romance round sail sailor seen sergeant ship sing skin smoke soldiers song sons soul stand stood story talk tell Thee There's things Thou thought thousand Till took True Thomas turn Twas wait walk watch wife wind women York
Página 208 - When earth's last picture is painted, and the tubes are twisted and dried. When the oldest colors have faded, and the youngest critic has died. We shall rest and, faith, we shall need It — lie down for an aeon or two. Till the master of all good workmen shall set us to work anew ! And those that were good shall be happy ; they shall sit in a golden chair : They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comets...
Página 6 - We were dreamers, dreaming greatly, in the manstifled town; We yearned beyond the sky-line where the strange roads go down. Came the Whisper, came the Vision, came the Power with the Need. Till the Soul that is not man's soul was lent us to lead.
Página v - The cities are full of pride, Challenging each to each — This from her mountainside, That from her burthened beach. R. KIPLING. Fancy a novel about Chicago or Buffalo, let us say, or Nashville, Tennessee! There are just three big cities in the United States that are "story cities" — New York, of course, New Orleans, and, best of the lot, San Francisco.
Página 208 - And only the Master shall praise us, and only the Master shall blame; And no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame; But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star, Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of Things as They Are!
Página 75 - In the desert where the dung-fed camp-smoke curled There was never voice before us till I led our lonely chorus, I — the war-drum of the White Man round the world! By the bitter road the Younger Son must tread, Ere he win to hearth and saddle of his own, — 'Mid the riot of the shearers at the shed, In the silence of the herder's hut alone — In the twilight, on a bucket upside down, Hear me babble what the weakest won't confess — I am Memory and Torment — I am Town! I am all that ever went...
Página 172 - Oogli, Shy as a girl to begin; Aggie de Castrer she made me, An' Aggie was clever as sin; Older than me, but my first un— More like a mother she were— Showed me the way to promotion an' pay, An' I learned about women from 'er!
Página 101 - Take the flower and turn the hour, and kiss your love again ! Buy my English posies...
Página 31 - My engines, after ninety days o' race an' rack an' strain Through all the seas of all Thy world, slam-bangin' home again. Slam-bang too much — they knock a wee — the crosshead-gibs are loose ; But thirty thousand mile o' sea has gied them fair excuse. . . . Fine, clear an' dark — a full-draught breeze, \vi' Ushant out o' sight, An' Ferguson relievin