The Writings in Prose and Verse of Rudyard Kipling: Puck of Pook's hill

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C. Scribner's sons, 1906 - English literature

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Page 63 - You forget our mirth, and talk at the tables, The kine in the shed and the horse in the stables To pitch her sides and go over her cables! Then you drive out where the storm-clouds swallow: And the sound of your oar-blades falling hollow Is all we have left through the months to follow. Ah, what is a Woman that you forsake her, And the hearth-fire and the home-acre, To go with the old grey Widow-maker?
Page 247 - Five and twenty ponies Trotting through the dark Brandy for the Parson, 'Baccy for the Clerk; Laces for a lady, letters for a spy, Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!
Page 135 - Cities and Thrones and Powers, Stand in Time's eye, Almost as long as flowers, Which daily die: But, as new buds put forth, To glad new men, Out of the spent and unconsidered Earth, The Cities rise again. This season's Daffodil, She never hears, What change, what chance, what chill, Cut down last year's ; But with bold countenance, And knowledge small, Esteems her seven days
Page 70 - I ploughed the land with horses, But my heart was ill at ease, For the old seafaring men Came to me now and then, With their sagas of the seas...
Page 137 - The horsemen and the footmen Are pouring in amain From many a stately market-place, From many a fruitful plain, From many a lonely hamlet, Which, hid by beech and pine, Like an eagle's nest, hangs on the crest Of purple Apennine; From lordly Volaterrae Where scowls the far-famed hold Piled by the hands of giants For godlike kings of old...
Page 10 - FAREWELL, rewards and fairies, Good housewives now may say, For now foul sluts in dairies Do fare as well as they ; And though they sweep their hearths no less Than maids were wont to do, Yet who of late for cleanliness Finds sixpence in her shoe ? Lament, lament old abbeys, The fairies lost command, They did but change priests...
Page 129 - BESIDE the ungathered rice he lay, His sickle in his hand; His breast was bare, his matted hair Was buried in the sand. Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep, He saw his Native Land.
Page 158 - ... light on the beech leaves they walked, while Puck between them chanted something like this: — ' Cur mundus militat sub vana gloria Cujus prosperitas est transitoria? Tam cito labitur ejus potentia Quam vasa figuli quae sunt fragilia.
Page 132 - Like a shining Fish Then it descends Into deep Water. It is not given For goods or gear, But for The Thing.
Page 1 - See you our little mill that clacks, So busy by the brook? She has ground her corn and paid her tax Ever since Domesday Book.

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