The Yale Literary Magazine, Bind 87Yale Literary Society, 1921 |
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Side 130 - They called it Annandale — and I was there To flourish, to find words, and to attend: Liar, physician, hypocrite, and friend, I watched him; and the sight was not so fair As one or two that I have seen elsewhere: An apparatus not for me to mend — A wreck, with hell between him and the end, Remained of Annandale; and I was there. "I knew the ruin as I knew the man; So put the two together, if you can, Remembering the worst you know of me. Now view yourself as I was, on the spot — With a slight...
Side 249 - Tis time New hopes should animate the world, new light Should dawn from new revealings to a race Weighed down so long, forgotten so long...
Side 89 - ... soft-lying, purring soft, Hearing the rain without; not forced, as I, To lay foundation stones until I die, Or sign State-papers till my hand is sick. The man who plaits straw crowns upon a rick Is happier in his crown than I the King. And yet, this day, a very marvellous thing Came by me as I walked the chamber here. Once in my childhood, in my seventh year, I saw them come, and now they have returned, Those strangers, riding upon cars that burned, Or seemed to burn, with gold, while music thrilled,...
Side 143 - Unless a person can strictly define by a process of thought the essential Form of the Good, abstracted from everything else ; and unless he can fight his way as it were through all objections, studying to disprove them not by the rules of opinion, but by those of real existence; and unless in all these conflicts he travels to his conclusion without making one false step in his train of thought...
Side 163 - And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea, But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three.
Side 130 - ... glittered when he walked. And he was rich— yes, richer than a king— And admirably schooled in every grace: In fine, we thought that he was everything To make us wish that we were in his place. So on we worked, and waited for the light, And went without the meat, and cursed the bread; And Richard Cory, one calm summer night, Went home and put a bullet through his head.
Side 129 - Clean favored, and imperially slim. And he was always quietly arrayed, And he was always human when he talked; But still he fluttered pulses when he said, "Good morning," and he glittered when he walked.
Side 211 - A year or two, and grey Euripides, And Horace and a Lydia or so, And Euclid and the brush of Angelo, Darwin on man, Vergilius on bees, The nose and dialogues of Socrates, Don Quixote, Hudibras and Trinculo, How worlds are spawned and where the dead gods go, All shall be shard of broken memories. And there shall linger other, magic things, — The fog that creeps in wanly from the sea, The rotten harbor smell, the mystery Of moonlit elms, the flash of pigeon wings, The sunny Green, the old-world peace...
Side 143 - Good, abstracted from everything else ; and unless he can fight his way as it were through all objections, studying to disprove them not by the rules of opinion, but by those of real existence; and unless in all these conflicts he travels to his conclusion without making one false step in his train of thought, — unless he does all this, shall you not assert that he knows neither the essence of good, nor any other good thing ; and that any phantom of it, which he may chance to apprehend, is the...
Side 96 - Crudities hastily gobbled up in Five Months' Travels in France, Savoy, Italy, Rhetia, Helvetia, some parts of High Germany, and the Netherlands, 1611," 4to; reprinted in 1776, 3 vols., 8vo.