Scribner's Magazine ..., Volume 59C. Scribner's sons, 1916 |
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Halaman 390 - Yet nature is made better by no mean But nature makes that mean : so, over that art Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race : this is an art Which does mend nature, change it rather, but The art itself is nature.
Halaman 90 - You common cry of curs ! whose breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcases of unburied men That do corrupt my air, I banish you ; And here remain with your uncertainty...
Halaman 76 - I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine. I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honoring thee As giving it a hope, that there It could not withered be. But thou thereon didst only breathe, And sent'st it back to me; Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, Not of itself, but thee.
Halaman 184 - A grove of giant redwoods or sequoias should be kept just as we keep a great and beautiful cathedral. The extermination of the passenger-pigeon meant that mankind was just so much poorer; exactly as in the case of the destruction of the cathedral at Rheims.
Halaman 158 - The whole world sprang to arms. On the head of Frederic is all the blood which was shed in a war which raged during many years and in every quarter of the globe, the blood of the column of Fontenoy, the blood of the mountaineers who were slaughtered at Culloden. The evils produced by his wickedness were felt in lands where the name of Prussia was unknown ; and, in order that he might rob a neighbour whom he had promised to defend, black men fought on the coast of Coromandel, and red men scalped each...
Halaman 225 - ... lassitude, seemed to me sadder than the misery of starved and beaten animals. I should have liked to rouse them for a minute, to coax them into a game or a scamper; but the longer I looked into their fixed and weary eyes the more preposterous the idea became. With the windows of that house looking down on us, how could I have imagined such a thing? The dogs knew better: they knew what the house would tolerate and what it would not. I even fancied that they knew what was passing through my mind,...
Halaman 298 - It's a long way to Tipperary, it's a long way to go ; It's a long way to Tipperary, to th' sweetest girl I know ! Goodbye Piccadilly, farewell Leicester Square. It's a long, long way to Tipperary, but my heart's right there ! [Nora and Mollser remain silently listening.
Halaman 205 - He went to the window and stood with his back to her. For a full minute there was silence in the room, and then Baron spoke. He did not turn around. "Yes, there were the police," he repeated, "but I couldn't help remembering that there was also I — and we. I had an idea we could do a good deal better than the police, in a case like this. I don't understand how women feel, mother, but I can't help remembering that every little girl is going to be a woman some day. And I've no doubt that the kind...
Halaman 158 - On the head of Frederic is all the blood which was shed in a war which raged during many years and in every quarter of the globe — the blood of the column of Fontenoy, the blood of the brave mountaineers who were slaughtered at Culloden.
Halaman 390 - Under this woodland mould, More still Than broken daffodil, When I, Home from too long a roving, Come up the silent hill? Dear, wistful eyes, White ruff and windy gold Of collie coat so oft caressed, Not one quick thrill In snowy breast, One spring of jubilant surprise, One ecstasy of loving? Are all our frolics ended? Never more Those royal romps of old, When one, Playfellow of the sun, Would pour Adventures and romances Into a morning run; Off and away, A flying glint of gold, Startling to wing...