File:Home of Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1898.jpg

Identifier: internationallib16lang (find matches)
Title: The International library of famous literature : selections from the world's great writers, ancient, mediaeval, and modern, with biographical and explanatory notes and with introductions
Year: 1898 (1890s)
Authors: Lang, Andrew, 1844-1912 Mitchell, Donald Grant, 1822-1908
Subjects: Literature
Publisher: New York Merrill and Baker
Contributing Library: Internet Archive
Digitizing Sponsor: Internet Archive

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thine ear to charm; The sexton, tolling his bell at noon, Deems not that great Napoleon Stops his horse, and lists with delight Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height; Nor knowest thou what argument Thy life to thy neighbors creed has lent. All are needed by each one — Nothing is fair or good alone. I thought the sparrows note from heaven,Singing at dawn on the alder bough;I brought him home, in his nest, at even;He sings the song, but it pleases not now;For I did not bring home the river and sky;He sang to my ear — they sang to my eye. The delicate shells lay on the shore; The bubbles of the latest wave Fresh pearls to their enamel gave, And the bellowing of the savage sea Greeted their safe escape to me. I wiped away the weeds and foam — I fetched my sea-born treasures home; But the poor, unsightly, noisome things Had left their beauty on the shore, With the sun, and the sand, and the wild uproar. The lover watched his graceful maid,As mid the virgin train she strayed;
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DCPSH faO o fao - WOMEN AND MEN. 7511 Nor knew her beautys best attire Was woven still by the snow-white choir. At last she came to his hermitage, Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage; The gay enchantment was undone — A gentle wife, but fairy none. Then I said: I covet truth; Beauty is unripe childhoods cheat; I leave it behind with the games of youth. — As I spoke, beneath my feet The ground pine curled its pretty wreath, Running over the club-moss burrs; I inhaled the violets breath; Around me stood the oaks and firs; Pine cones and acorns lay on the ground; Over me soared the eternal sky, Full of light and of deity; Again I saw, again I heard, The rolling river, the morning bird; Beauty through my senses stole — I yielded myself to the perfect whole. WOMEN AND MEN.* By THOMAS WEXTWORTH fflGGINSON. (Thomas Wevtworth Higginson : An American writer; born in Cam-bridge, Mass., December 22, 1823. He was graduated from Harvard in arts in1841 and in divinity in 1847, and ent

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