The Influence of Baudelaire in France and England

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Constable, Limited, 1913 - 300 Seiten
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Seite 180 - I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.
Seite 34 - Les parfums, les couleurs et les sons se répondent. Il est des parfums frais comme des chairs d'enfants, Doux comme les hautbois, verts comme les prairies, — Et d'autres, corrompus, riches et triomphants, Ayant l'expansion des choses infinies, Comme l'ambre, le musc, le benjoin et l'encens, Qui chantent les transports de l'esprit et des sens.
Seite 229 - From too much love of living, From hope and fear set free, We thank with brief thanksgiving Whatever gods may be That no life lives for ever; That dead men rise up never; That even the weariest river Winds somewhere safe to sea.
Seite 58 - Just when we are safest, there's a sunset-touch, A fancy from a flower-bell, some one's death, A chorus-ending from Euripides, And that's enough for fifty hopes and fears As old and new at once as nature's self, To rap and knock and enter in our soul...
Seite 66 - We have taken it into our heads that to write a poem simply for the poem's sake, and to acknowledge such to have been our design, would be to confess ourselves radically wanting in the true poetic dignity and force ; but the simple fact is that, would we but permit ourselves to look into our own souls, we should immediately there discover that under the sun there neither exists nor can exist any work more thoroughly dignified, more supremely noble, than this very poem ; this poem per se; this poem...
Seite 65 - It has been assumed, tacitly and avowedly, directly and indirectly, that the ultimate object of all poetry is truth. Every poem, it is said, should inculcate a moral ; and by this moral is the poetical merit of the work to be adjudged.
Seite 223 - And now no sacred staff shall break in blossom, No choral salutation lure to light A spirit sick with perfume and sweet night And love's tired eyes and hands and barren bosom. There is no help for these things ; none to mend, And none to mar ; not all our songs, 0 friend ! Will make death clear, or make life durable.
Seite 228 - Thou hast sent us sleep, and stricken sleep with dreams, Saying, Joy is not, but love of joy shall be ; Thou hast made sweet springs for all the pleasant streams, In the end thou hast made them bitter with the sea. Thou hast fed one rose with dust of many men ; Thou hast marred one face with fire of many tears ; Thou hast taken love, and given us sorrow again ; With pain thou hast filled us full to the eyes and ears.
Seite 197 - O miroir! Eau froide par l'ennui dans ton cadre gelée Que de fois et pendant des heures, désolée Des songes et cherchant mes souvenirs qui sont Comme des feuilles sous ta glace au trou profond, Je m'apparus en toi comme une ombre lointaine, Mais, horreur! des soirs, dans ta sévère fontaine, J'ai de mon rêve épars connu la nudité ! Nourrice, suis-je belle ? N.
Seite 227 - Yield up your breath, And with thy right hand laid upon us death. \ Thou hast sent us sleep, and stricken sleep with dreams, Saying, Joy is not, but love of joy shall be ; Thou hast made sweet springs for all the pleasant streams, In the end thou hast made them bitter with the sea.

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