Comentarios de la gente - Escribir un comentario
No encontramos ningún comentario en los lugares habituales.
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
arms beautiful boat breath called chalk Conspirator dark daughter dead death delight Don Carlos Don Ruy Gomez Dona Sol dream Duke Duke of Gotha essays eyes father feel feet flowers friends Galahad Gilliatt grace Greek hand head heard heart heaven Hernani Holmes Holy Grail Homer honor Hugo human Huxley Ibn Sina Iliad Josiah Gilbert Holland King lady land Les Burgraves light literary living look Lord Makbeth matter mind morning mother nature never night o'er octopus Oliver Wendell Holmes once passed Phaeacian poems poet pray protoplasm round seemed side smile song soul spirit stood strange street sweet tell thee things Thomas Henry Huxley thou thought took Translation trees turned unto verse Victor Hugo W. D. Howells woman words young
Página 7454 - God give us men. A time like this demands, Strong minds, great hearts, true faith and ready hands ; Men whom the lust of office does not kill ; Men whom the spoils of office cannot buy; Men who possess opinions and a will ; Men who have honor; men who will not lie ; Men who can stand before a demagogue And damn his treacherous flatteries without winking; Tall men, sun crowned, who live above the fog In public duty and in private thinking.
Página 7466 - Year after year beheld the silent toil That spread his lustrous coil; Still, as the spiral grew, He left the past year's dwelling for the new. Stole with soft step its shining archway through, Built up its idle door, Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.
Página 7464 - But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy crack In his laugh. I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here ; But the old three-cornered hat, And the breeches, and all that, Are so queer...
Página 7467 - I'll tell you what happened without delay: Scaring the parson into fits, Frightening people out of their wits — Have you ever heard of that, I say ? Seventeen hundred and fifty-five : Georgius Secundus was then alive, — Snuffy old drone from the German hive.
Página 7645 - MINE eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord: He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored ; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword: His truth is marching on.
Página 7600 - In she plunged boldly, No matter how coldly The rough river ran, — Over the brink of it, Picture it —think of it, Dissolute Man ! Lave in it, drink of it, Then, if you can ! Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care ; Fashioned so slenderly, Young, and so fair ! Ere her limbs frigidly Stiffen too rigidly, Decently, — kindly, — Smooth, and compose them ; And her eyes, close them, Staring so blindly ! Dreadfully staring Thro' muddy impurity, As when with the daring Last look of despairing Fixed...
Página 7606 - To eke her living out. Our very hopes belied our fears, Our fears our hopes belied : We thought her dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died. For when the morn came dim and sad, And chill with early showers, Her quiet eyelids closed — she had Another morn than ours.
Página 7463 - ISAW him once before, As he passed by the door; And again The pavement stones resound, As he totters o'er the ground With his cane. They say that in his prime, Ere the pruning-knife of Time Cut him down, Not a better man was found By the Crier on his round Through the town. But now he walks the streets, And he looks at all he meets Sad and wan ; And he shakes his feeble head. That it seems as if he said,
Página 7602 - Work ! work ! work ! from weary chime to chime; work ! work ! work ! as prisoners work for crime. Band, and gusset, and seam ; seam, and gusset, and band ; till the heart is sick, and the brain 'benumbed, as well as the weary hand.
Página 7596 - ... light of morn, Like the sweetheart of the sun, Who many a glowing kiss had won. On her cheek an autumn flush, Deeply ripened ; — such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn. Round her eyes her tresses fell, Which were blackest none could tell, But long lashes veiled a light, That had else been all too bright.