Poet Lore, Volume 32 |
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Adelaide Agda Anna appears arms Bastien beautiful become begin believe Bergamin better Blind characters child close comes course Cusano dear Dino don't door drama dream enters eyes face father feel followed give Glimming goes Gypsy hand happy head hear heard heart Helge hold human I'll it's kind kiss laugh leave light live looks Lord Madame Malcolm matter mean mother never night once pause Percinet perhaps person Peter play poems poet present remain rises scene Second seems seen sits smiles song soul speak stands stay story sure Sylvette symbolism talk tell that's theatre thing thou thought true turns Ulfstjerna understand wait wall whole window wish woman young
Popular passages
Page 478 - It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale ; look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops; I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Page 91 - ... What do I fear? Myself? There's none else by. Richard loves Richard: that is, I am I. Is there a murderer here?
Page 260 - Is it so small a thing To have enjoy'd the sun, To have lived light in the spring, To have loved, to have thought, to have done...
Page 91 - My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain.
Page 415 - We are the fools of time and terror : Days Steal on us and steal from us ; yet we live, Loathing our life, and dreading still to die. In all the days of this detested yoke — This vital weight upon the struggling heart, Which sinks with sorrow, or beats quick with pain, Or...
Page 91 - Give me another horse, — bind up my wounds, — Have mercy, Jesu ! — Soft ! I did but dream. — 0 coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me ! — The lights burn blue. — It is now dead midnight. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What, do I fear myself ? there's none else by : Richard loves Richard ; that is, I am I. Is there a murderer here ? No ; — yes, I am : Then fly. What, from myself ? Great reason why, — Lest I revenge.
Page 91 - I shall despair. — There is no creature loves me ; And, if I die, no soul will pity me : — Nay, wherefore should they?
Page 259 - Right for the polar star, past Orgunje, Brimming, and bright, and large ; then sands begin To hem his watery march, and dam his streams, And split his currents; that for...
Page 260 - And then we shall unwillingly return Back to this meadow of calamity, This uncongenial place, this human life; And in our individual human state Go through the sad probation all again, To see if we will poise our life at last, To see if we will now at last be true To our own only true, deep-buried selves, Being one with which we are one with the whole world...
Page 260 - I say: Fear not! Life still Leaves human effort scope ! But, since life teems with ill, Nurse no extravagant hope; Because thou must not dream, thou need'st not then despair ! A long pause.