The HeptalogiaMosher, 1898 - 96 Seiten |
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ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE believe Bill blank reverse bloom breath burst CAP WITH SEVEN CAUDLE colour crab crab's cribbed curve dark dawn dead death doubt DRAMATIC MONOLOGUE dropt DUE NOV earth ends eyes face fate feel felt flesh Flushed fool girl God's rods gold grin HARVARD COLLEGE hear heart hell Heptalogia HIGHER PANTHEISM hope House Idyl CCCLXVI infinite Jews John Jones Jove joys June's kiss knew LAST WORDS leave life's lips live London look Lord Love's man's men's MONTHLY NURSE NEPHELIDIA never nose NUTSHELL once palpitate parodies passion pill poem I published PORTLAND MAINE prigged rhymes round sand sea's SEVEN AGAINST SENSE SEVEN BELLS SEVENTH-RATE POET Shirk sick sometimes my whim SONNET soul spasm spirit stars stings tears thee There's thing thought thrill tick Time's tremulous verses vulgar weren't-but whole winks woman WOODLOUSE worms write half
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 83 - Sonnet for a Picture That nose is out of drawing. With a gasp, She pants upon the passionate lips that ache With the red drain of her own mouth, and make A monochord of colour. Like an asp, One lithe lock wriggles in his rutilant grasp. Her bosom is an oven of myrrh, to bake Love's white warm shewbread to a browner cake.
Seite 88 - Flushed with the famishing fullness of fever that reddens with radiance of rathe recreation, Gaunt as the ghastliest of glimpses that gleam through the gloom of the gloaming when ghosts go aghast ? Nay, for the nick of the tick of the time is a tremulous touch on the temples of terror, Strained as the sinews yet strenuous with strife of the dead who is dumb as the dust-heaps of death : Surely no soul is it, sweet as the spasm of erotic emotional exquisite error, Bathed in the balms of beatified bliss,...
Seite 6 - Specimens of Modern Poets / The Heptalogia / or / The Seven against Sense / A Cap with Seven Bells. / I. The Higher Pantheism in a Nutshell / II.
Seite 14 - One and two are not one: but one and nothing is two; Truth can hardly be false, if falsehood cannot be true. Once the mastodon was: pterodactyls were common as cocks; Then the mammoth was God: now is He a prize ox. Parallels all things are: yet many of these are askew. You are certainly I : but certainly I am not you. Springs the rock from the plain, shoots the stream from the rock; Cocks exist for the hen : but hens exist for the cock. God, whom we see not, is: and God, who is not, we see; Fiddle,...
Seite 14 - Why, and whither, and how? for barley and rye are not clover: Neither are straight lines curves: yet over is under and over. Two and two may be four: but four and four are not eight: Fate and God may be twain: but God is the same thing as fate.
Seite 13 - ONE, who is not, we see; but one,- whom we see not, is; Surely, this is not that; but that is assuredly this. What, and wherefore, and whence: for under is over and under; If thunder could be without lightning, lightning could be without thunder. Doubt is faith in the main; but faith, on the whole, is doubt; We cannot believe by proof; but could we believe without? Why, and whither, and how? for barley and rye are not clover; Neither are straight lines curves; yet over is under and over.
Seite 87 - These that we feel in the blood of our blushes that thicken and threaten with throbs through the throat? Thicken and thrill as a theatre thronged at appeal of an actor's appalled agitation, Fainter with fear of the fires of the future than pale with the promise of pride in the past; Flushed with the famishing fulness of fever that reddens with radiance of rathe recreation, Gaunt as the ghastliest of glimpses that gleam through the gloom of the gloaming when ghosts go aghast?
Seite 54 - IDYL CCCLXVI THE KID MY spirit, in the doorway's pause, Fluttered with fancies in my breast ; Obsequious to all decent laws, I felt exceedingly distressed. I knew it rude to enter there With Mrs. V. in such a state ; And, 'neath a magisterial air, Felt actually indelicate. I knew the nurse began to grin ; I turned to greet my Love. Said she — " Confound your modesty, come in ! —What shall we call the darling, V. ? " (There are so many charming names ! Girls'— Peg, Moll, Doll, Fan, Kate, Blanche,...
Seite 88 - Surely no spirit or sense of a soul that was soft to the spirit and soul of our senses Sweetens the stress of suspiring suspicion that sobs in the semblance and sound of a sigh ; Only this oracle opens Olympian, in mystical moods and triangular tenses — Life is the lust of a lamp for the light that is dark till the dawn of the day when we die.
Seite 88 - Mild is the mirk and monotonous music of memory, melodiously mute as it may be, While the hope in the heart of a hero is bruised by the breach of men's rapiers, resigned to the rod ; Made meek as a mother whose bosom-beats bound with the bliss-bringing bulk of a balm-breathing baby, As they grope through the graveyard of creeds, under skies growing green at a groan for the grimness of God. Blank is the book of his bounty beholden of old, and its binding is blacker than bluer : Out of blue into black...