Life and Letters of Toru Dutt

H. Milford, Oxford University Press, 1921 - 364 pages

Avis des internautes - Rédiger un commentaire

Aucun commentaire n'a été trouvé aux emplacements habituels.

Autres éditions - Tout afficher

Expressions et termes fréquents

Fréquemment cités

Page 328 - I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas that I found not my heart moved more than with a trumpet...
Page 149 - THE NEW TIMON AND THE POETS. WE know him, out of Shakespeare's art, And those fine curses which he spoke ; The old Timon, with his noble heart, That, strongly loathing, greatly broke. So died the Old : here comes the New. Regard him : a familiar face : I thought we knew him : What, it's you, The padded man — that wears the stays — Who killed the girls and thrilled the boys With dandy pathos when you wrote ! A Lion, you, that made a noise, And shook a mane en papillotes.
Page 182 - Mid Nature's embers, parched and dry, Where o'er some tower, in ruin laid, The peepul spreads its haunted shade; Or round a tomb his scales to wreathe, Fit warder in the gate of death! Come on! Yet pause! behold us now Beneath the bamboo's arched bough, Where, gemming oft that sacred gloom, Glows the...
Page 214 - A better country, that is, an heavenly." TITOR thee, O dear, dear country, Mine eyes their vigils keep ; For very love, beholding Thy happy name, they weep. The mention of thy glory Is unction to the breast, And medicine in sickness, And love, and life, and rest.
Page 289 - Still barred thy doors ! the far East glows, The morning wind blows fresh and free. Should not the hour that wakes the rose Awaken also thee...
Page 338 - Amid the mangoe clumps of green profound, And palms arise, like pillars gray, between; And o'er the quiet pools the seemuls* lean, Red, — red, and startling like a trumpet's sound. But nothing can be lovelier than the ranges Of bamboos to the eastward, when the moon Looks through their gaps, and the white lotus changes Into a cup of silver. One might swoon Drunken with beauty then, or gaze and gaze On a primeval Eden, in amaze.
Page 259 - THE CHESS-BOARD. MY little love, do you remember, Ere we were grown so sadly wise, Those evenings in the bleak December, Curtained warm from the snowy weather, When you and I played chess together, Checkmated by each other's eyes ? Ah ! still I see your soft white hand Hovering warm o'er Queen and Knight ; Brave Pawns in valiant battle stand ; The double Castles guard the wings ; The Bishop, bent on distant things, Moves, sidling, through the fight.
Page 111 - I roved at random through the town, And saw the tumult of the halls ; And heard once more in college fanes The storm their high-built organs make, And thunder-music, rolling, shake The prophets blazoned on the panes ; And caught once more the distant shout, The measured pulse of racing oars Among the willows ; paced the shores And many a bridge, and all about The same gray flats again, and felt The same, but not the same ; and last Up that long walk of limes I passed, To see the rooms in which he...
Page 153 - tis for women to sit still On winter nights, by solitary fires, And hear the nations praising them far off...
Page 162 - La rose dit à la tombe : — Que fais-tu de ce qui tombe Dans ton gouffre ouvert toujours? La rose dit : — Tombeau sombre , De ces pleurs je fais dans l'ombre Un parfum d'ambre et de miel.

Informations bibliographiques