A Jongleur Strayed
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In our eReader you can find the full English version of the book. Read A Jongleur Strayed Online - link to read the book on full screen. Our eReader also allows you to upload and read Pdf, Txt, ePub and fb2 books. In the Mini eReder on the page below you can quickly view all pages of the book - Read Book A Jongleur Strayed
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To quickly assess the difficulty of the text, read a short excerpt:
'Twas in vain I said: "'Tis here it springs, Though no more it leaps and no more it sings;" And I thought of a poet whose songs I knew Of morning made and shining dew-- I remembered the mire of the marshes too.
AUTUMN The sad nights are here and the sad mornings, The air is filled with portents and with warnings, Clouds that vastly loom and winds that cry, A mournful prescience Of bright things going hence; Red leaves are blown about the widowed sky, And late disconsolate blooms Dankly ...bestrew The garden walks, as in deserted rooms The parted guest, in haste to bid adieu, Trinklets and shreds forgotten left behind, Torn letters and a ribbon once so brave-- Wreckage none cares to save, And hearts grow sad to find; And phantom echoes, as of old foot-falls, Wander and weary out in the thin air, And the last cricket calls-- A tiny sorrow, shrilling "Where? ah! where?" THE ROSE IN WINTER When last I saw this opening rose That holds the summer in its hand, And with its beauty overflows And sweetens half a shire of land, It was a black and cindered thing, Drearily rocking in the cold, The relic of a vanished spring, A rose abominably old.
What to read after A Jongleur Strayed?
You can find similar books in the "Read Also" column, or choose other free books by Le Gallienne Richard to read onlineMoreLess
To quickly assess the difficulty of the text, read a short excerpt:
'Twas in vain I said: "'Tis here it springs, Though no more it leaps and no more it sings;" And I thought of a poet whose songs I knew Of morning made and shining dew-- I remembered the mire of the marshes too.
AUTUMN The sad nights are here and the sad mornings, The air is filled with portents and with warnings, Clouds that vastly loom and winds that cry, A mournful prescience Of bright things going hence; Red leaves are blown about the widowed sky, And late disconsolate blooms Dankly ...bestrew The garden walks, as in deserted rooms The parted guest, in haste to bid adieu, Trinklets and shreds forgotten left behind, Torn letters and a ribbon once so brave-- Wreckage none cares to save, And hearts grow sad to find; And phantom echoes, as of old foot-falls, Wander and weary out in the thin air, And the last cricket calls-- A tiny sorrow, shrilling "Where? ah! where?" THE ROSE IN WINTER When last I saw this opening rose That holds the summer in its hand, And with its beauty overflows And sweetens half a shire of land, It was a black and cindered thing, Drearily rocking in the cold, The relic of a vanished spring, A rose abominably old.
What to read after A Jongleur Strayed?
You can find similar books in the "Read Also" column, or choose other free books by Le Gallienne Richard to read onlineMoreLess
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