The Collected Works of George Moore: Conversations in Ebury streetsubscribers only, 1924 |
Contents
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Common terms and phrases
Abbé admiration Agnes Grey Anne Brontë answered asked AUBRY autre Balzac beautiful began better bien Brown c'est century Comedy Cormon cried criticism Cunninghame Graham dinner doubt drawing-room dream Dujardin Ebury Street English English Art Club eyes fait Falstaff femme France FREEMAN French friends genius George Eliot GOSSE GRANVILLE-BARKER grey Hardy hear heard Human Comedy Husband jamais Jesus la Comédie humaine lady language listening literary literature lived London look Lord Uplandtowers Lough Carra M'Coll MARE Massimilla Doni memory mind Mlle Cormon Moore Hall n'est National Theatre never night painting passed Paul peut play pleasure poem poet poète poetry portrait prose qu'il qu'on reader remember Scenes from Clerical seemed Shakespeare Sickert soul speak Steer story talk tell Theocritus things thought told Tonks tout town turn Verlaine verse whilst woman words write written wrote young
Popular passages
Page 224 - TO HELEN. Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome.
Page 222 - Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are ; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear...
Page 219 - And this is thy dominion. While birds, and butterflies, and flowers, Make all one band of paramours, Thou, ranging up and down the bowers, Art sole in thy employment : A Life, a Presence like the Air, Scattering thy gladness without care> Too blest with any one to pair ; Thyself thy own enjoyment.
Page 231 - O, hark, O, hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O, sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O love, they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river; Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow for ever and for ever. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
Page 216 - Possessions vanish, and opinions change. And passions hold a fluctuating seat : But, by the storms of circumstance unshaken, And subject neither to eclipse nor wane. Duty exists ; immutably survive, For our support, the measures and the forms. Which an abstract intelligence supplies ; Whose kingdom is where time and space are not : Of other converse, which mind, soul, and bean, Do, with united urgency, require.
Page 221 - While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Page 230 - His coal-black curls as on he rode, As he rode down to Camelot. From the bank and from the river He flash'd into the crystal mirror, 'Tirra lirra,' by the river Sang Sir Lancelot.
Page 209 - Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written, For thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter.
Page 221 - The City's voice itself is soft like Solitude's. I see the Deep's untrampled floor With green and purple seaweeds strown; I see the waves upon the shore, Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown : I sit upon the sands alone, The lightning of the noontide ocean Is flashing...
Page 221 - The breath of the moist earth is light, Around its unexpanded buds ; Like many a voice of one delight, The winds, the birds, the ocean floods, The City's voice itself is soft like Solitude's.