File:Library of the world's best literature, ancient and modern (1904) (14782419645).jpg

Identifier: libraryofworldsbe04warn (find matches)
Title: Library of the world's best literature, ancient and modern
Year: 1904 (1900s)
Authors: Warner, Charles Dudley, 1829-1900 Mabie, Hamilton Wright, 1846-1916 Runkle, Lucia Isabella Gilbert, 1844- Warner, George H., 1883-1919
Subjects: Literature Literature
Publisher: New York : International Society
Contributing Library: New York Public Library
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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r through the East aglow.Hark, dear one, hark! Sweet nights approach is near. Translated for the THE DEATH OF THE POOR *His is death the consoler — death that bids live again;Here life its aim: here is our hope to be found.Making, like magic elixir, our poor weak heads to swim round.And giving us heart for the struggle till night makes end of thepain. T Athwart the hurricane — athwart the snow and the sleet.Afar there twinkles over the black earths waste,The light of the Scriptural inn where the weary and the faint maytasteThe sweets of welcome, the plenteous feast and the secure retreat. It is an angel, in whose soothing palmsAre held the boon of sleep and dreamy balms.Who makes a bed for poor unclothed men;It is the pride of the gods — the all-mysterious room,The paupers purse — this fatherland of gloom. The open gate to heaven, and heavens beyond our ken. Translated for the Til
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&,^imij^f, liMjy fh iUi,>fcyra.fi/,i.>^t^ ^y.^^UfJui^ MUSIC. Photogravure from a Painting by J. M. Striidwick. CHARLES BAUDELAIRE MUSIC 1625 S WEET music sweeps me like the seaToward my pale star,Whether the clouds be there or all the air be free I sail afar.With front outspread and swelling breasts, On swifter sailI bound through the steep waves foamy crestsUnder nights veil.Vibrate within me I feel all the passions that lash A bark in distress:By the blast I am lulled — by the tempests wild crashOn the salt wilderness.Then comes the dead calm — mirrored thereI behold my despair. Translated for the < Library of the Worlds Be.st Literature.* B THE BROKEN BELL I ITER and sweet, when wintry evenings fall Across the quivering, smoking hearth, to hearOld memorys notes sway softly far and near, While ring the chimes across the gray fogs pall. Thrice blessed bell, that, to time insolent, Still calls afar its old and pious song. Responding faithfully in accents strong.Like s

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