Sketches in Lyric Prose And Verse
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There does that magic hand reveal to me life in fruition, renewing in my consciousness its highest import. There do I feel its ecstasies and tears, its sweeps of color and its hueless voids.
Oh, wondrous hand, to weave in tapestries of tone such fancies rare and themes sublime ! — to lift on un- dulating sound this feeble spirit to the infinite!
I stroke the hand of my beloved, marveling at so divine an instrument.
In fervent gratitude I press my lips to the fair, potent hand of my beloved.
[23...] Sketches in Lyric MY MOODS I LOVE my moods. They are my comrades, — my play-fellows by day, my bed-fellows by night. They bring me no reproach, no criticism; they carry no regret and offer no antagonisms; they cost me no exertion and occasion no expense. And yet I owe them much, — these straggling visitors, these jack-o'- lantern creatures, these vagrant, variant comrades.
Like unto the pages of the book of life are they.
Aye, they are life, re-touched by the mysterious brush of memory.
There is the intellectual mood, when my mind wanders in the clean realm of thought, — that wind- swept sky where no emotion penetrates.
What to read after Sketches in Lyric Prose And Verse?
You can find similar books in the "Read Also" column, or choose other free books by Natalie Whitted Price to read onlineMoreLess
To quickly assess the difficulty of the text, read a short excerpt:
There does that magic hand reveal to me life in fruition, renewing in my consciousness its highest import. There do I feel its ecstasies and tears, its sweeps of color and its hueless voids.
Oh, wondrous hand, to weave in tapestries of tone such fancies rare and themes sublime ! — to lift on un- dulating sound this feeble spirit to the infinite!
I stroke the hand of my beloved, marveling at so divine an instrument.
In fervent gratitude I press my lips to the fair, potent hand of my beloved.
[23...] Sketches in Lyric MY MOODS I LOVE my moods. They are my comrades, — my play-fellows by day, my bed-fellows by night. They bring me no reproach, no criticism; they carry no regret and offer no antagonisms; they cost me no exertion and occasion no expense. And yet I owe them much, — these straggling visitors, these jack-o'- lantern creatures, these vagrant, variant comrades.
Like unto the pages of the book of life are they.
Aye, they are life, re-touched by the mysterious brush of memory.
There is the intellectual mood, when my mind wanders in the clean realm of thought, — that wind- swept sky where no emotion penetrates.
What to read after Sketches in Lyric Prose And Verse?
You can find similar books in the "Read Also" column, or choose other free books by Natalie Whitted Price to read onlineMoreLess
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