The Vision Of Sir Launfal

The Vision Of Sir Launfal

by James Russell Lowell
     
 

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This is a reproduction of a book published before 1923. This book may have occasional imperfections such as missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. that were either part of the original artifact, or were introduced by the scanning process. We believe this work is culturally important, and despite the imperfections, have elected to bring it back

Overview

This is a reproduction of a book published before 1923. This book may have occasional imperfections such as missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. that were either part of the original artifact, or were introduced by the scanning process. We believe this work is culturally important, and despite the imperfections, have elected to bring it back into print as part of our continuing commitment to the preservation of printed works worldwide. We appreciate your understanding of the imperfections in the preservation process, and hope you enjoy this valuable book.

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9781117892306
Publisher:
BCR (Bibliographical Center for Research)
Publication date:
03/11/2010
Pages:
176
Product dimensions:
9.69(w) x 7.44(h) x 0.38(d)

Read an Excerpt


Two dozen of Italy's exiles who shoot us his Kaisership daily, stern pen-and-ink Brutuses, Who, in Yankee back-parlors, with crucified smile,1 Mount serenely their country's funereal pile: Ninety-nine Irish heroes, ferocious rebellers 'Gainst the Saxon in cis-marine garrets and cel- lars, Who shake their dread fists o'er the sea and all that, As long as a copper drops into the hat: Nine hundred Teutonic republicans stark From Vaterland's battle just won in the Park, Who the happy profession of martyrdom take Whenever it gives them a chance at a steak : Sixty-two second Washingtons: two or three Jack- sons : And so many everythings-else that it racks one's Poor memory too much to continue the list, Especially now they no longer exist ; I would merely observe that you Ve taken to giv- ing The puffs that belong to the dead to the living, And that somehow your trump-of-contemporary- doom's tones Is tuned after old dedications and tomb-stones." Here the critic came in and a thistle presented 2 From a frown to a smile the god's features relented,As he stared at his envoy, who, swelling with 1 Not forgetting their tea and their toast, though, the while. 3 Turn back now to page goodness only knows what, And take a fresh hold on the thread of my plot. pride, To the god's asking look, nothing daunted, replied, " You 're surprised, I suppose, I was absent so long, But your godship respecting the lilies was wrong; I hunted the garden from one end to t' other And got no reward but vexation and bother, Till, tossed out with weeds in a corner to wither, This one lily I found and made haste to bring hither." " Did he think I had given him a book to review? I ought to have knownwhat the fellow would Muttered Phoebus aside, " for a thistle will...

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