Englische Studien, Band 57

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Eugen Kölbing, Johannes Hoops, Arthur Kölbing, Reinald Hoops, Albert Wagner
O.R. Reisland, 1923
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"Zeitschrift für englische Philologie" (varies slightly).

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Seite 198 - What? Those lesser thirds so plaintive, sixths diminished, sigh on sigh, Told them something? Those suspensions, those solutions - 'Must we die?' Those commiserating sevenths - 'Life might last! we can but try!' VIII 'Were you happy?
Seite 57 - Dant ordine omnes fidem; consolantur aegram animi avertendo noxam ab coacta in auctorem delicti: mentem peccare, non corpus, et unde consilium afuerit culpam abesse. 'Vos...
Seite 198 - Was a lady such a lady, cheeks so round and lips so red, On her neck the small face buoyant, like a bell-flower on its bed, O'er the breast's superb abundance where a man might base his head?
Seite 199 - Then they left you for their pleasure: till in due time, one by one, Some with lives that came to nothing, some with deeds as well undone, Death stepped tacitly and took them where they never see the sun.
Seite 199 - Yes, you, like a ghostly cricket, creaking where a house was burned : "Dust and ashes, dead and done with, Venice spent what Venice earned. The soul, doubtless, is immortal — where a soul can be discerned.
Seite 197 - Here you come with your old music, and here's all the good it brings. What, they lived once thus at Venice where the merchants were the kings, Where St.
Seite 199 - Dust and ashes!" So you creak it, and I want the heart to scold. Dear dead women, with such hair, too — what's become of all the gold Used to hang and brush their bosoms ? I feel chilly and grown old.
Seite 199 - Here on earth they bore their fruitage, mirth and folly were the crop: What of soul was left, I wonder, when the kissing had to stop?
Seite 213 - We feathered his trail up-wind — A stag of warrant, a stag, a stag, A runnable stag, a kingly crop, Brow, bay and tray and three on top, A stag, a runnable stag. Then the huntsman's horn rang yap, yap, yap, And "Forwards...
Seite 239 - Remember how when first we met we stood Stung with immortal recollections. O face immured beside a fairy sea, That leaned down at dead midnight to be kissed ! O beauty folded up in forests old ! Thou wast the lovely quest of Arthur's knights FRANC. Thy armour glimmered in a gloom of green.

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