The Open Shelf

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Page 3 - act to declare the purpose of the people of the United States as to the future political status of the people of the Philippine islands and to provide a more autonomous government of
Page 64 - the heart of man. Was it ever less than a treason To go with the drift of things. To yield with a grace to reason And bow and accept the end Of a love or of a season
Page 81 - Softly along the road of evening. In a twilight dim with rose, Wrinkled with age, and drenched with dew Old Nod, the shepherd, goes. His lambs outnumber a noon's roses. Yet. when night's shadows fall. His blind old sheep-dog, Slumber-soon, Misses not one of all.
Page 65 - When the tea is brought at five o'clock, And all the neat curtains are drawn with care. The little black cat with bright green eyes Is suddenly purring there. The white saucer like some full moon descends At last from the clouds of the table above . . . She
Page 82 - And tender and white As a May morning. She walks without hood At dusk. It is good To hear her sing. It is God's will That I shall love her still As he loves Mary, And night and day I will go forth to pray That she love me. She is as gold Lovely and far more cold. Do
Page 65 - The man Flammonde, from God knows where With firm address and foreign air With news of nations in his talk And something royal in his walk. With glint of iron in his eyes.
Page 81 - I know a Jew fish-crier down on Maxwell Street with a voice like a North wind blowing over corn stubble in January. He dangles herring before prospective customers evincing a joy identical with that of Pavlowa dancing. His face is that of a man terribly glad to be selling fish, terribly glad that God made fish and customers to whom he may
Page 82 - He may wish to convey a mood of indecision in which case the poem should be indecisive ; he may wish to bring before his reader the constantly shifting and changing lights over a landscape, or the varying attitudes of a person under strong emotion, then his poem must shift and change to present this
Page 64 - And over the hills I have wended ; I have climbed the hills of view, And looked at the world and descended ; I have come by the highway home And lo, it is ended.
Page 65 - My mind has thunderstorms. That brood for heavy hours Until they rain me words. My thoughts are drooping flowers And sulking, silent birds. Yet come, dark thunderstorms, And brood your heavy hours. For when you rain me words, My thoughts are dancing

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