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Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds: Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such, as wand'ring near her secret bow'r,
Rev. Charles Warr (right) with the Duke of York (centre) and Sir Francis Grant, Lord Lyon King of Arms (left) and proceeding to St Giles' Cathedral in 1933. Charles Laing Warr [1] KCVO [2] FRSE (1892–1969) was a Church of Scotland minister [3] [4] and author [5] in the 20th century.
I sadly smiling remember that the flower fades to make fruit, the fruit rots to make earth. Out of the mother; and through the spring exultances, ripeness and decadence; and home to the mother. You making haste haste on decay: not blameworthy; life is good, be it stubbornly long or suddenly
The poem is told from the point of view of an old man who, at some point in his past, had a fantastical experience in which a silver trout he had caught and laid on the floor turned into a "glimmering girl" who called him by his name, then vanished; he became infatuated with her, and remains devoted to finding her again. [1]
Clarel: A Poem and Pilgrimage in the Holy Land is an epic poem by American writer Herman Melville, originally published in two volumes in 1876.It is a poetic fiction about a young American man named Clarel, on pilgrimage through the Holy Land with a cluster of companions who question each other as they pass through Biblical sites.
The hazy scene of Impression, Sunrise strayed from traditional landscape painting and classic, idealized beauty. Paul Smith suggested that with this style, Monet meant to express "other beliefs about artistic quality which might be tied to the ideologies being consolidated by the emergent bourgeoisie from which he came."
Let thy loveliness fade as it will; And, around the dear ruin each wish of my heart Would entwine itself verdantly still! II. It is not while beauty and youth are thine own, And thy cheeks unprofan'd by a tear, That the fervour and faith of a soul can be known, To which time will but make thee more dear!
“The Second Coming” is a poem written by Irish poet William Butler Yeats in 1919, first printed in The Dial in November 1920 and included in his 1921 collection of verses Michael Robartes and the Dancer. [1]