theclassics
Stories
33
Chapters
151
Words
604.4 K
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0
Reading
2 d, 2 h
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O sister, sister, thy first-begotten,The hands that cling and the feet that follow,The voice of the child’s blood crying yet,Who hath remembered me? who hath forgotten?Thou hast forgotten, O summer swallow,But the world shall end when I forget. SWINBURNE. “Unto you a child is born,” sang the bit of yellow paper that fluttered into my room one brown October morning. Then the fear of fatherhood mingled wildly with the joy of creation; I wondered how it looked and how it felt—what were its… -
Dim face of Beauty haunting all the world, Fair face of Beauty all too fair to see,Where the lost stars adown the heavens are hurled,— There, there alone for thee May white peace be. Beauty, sad face of Beauty, Mystery, Wonder, What are these dreams to foolish babbling menWho cry with little noises ’neath the…
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Life treads on life, and heart on heart;We press too close in church and martTo keep a dream or grave apart. MRS. BROWNING. The world-old phenomenon of the contact of diverse races of men is to have new exemplification during the new century. Indeed, the characteristic of our age is the contact of European civilization with the world’s undeveloped peoples. Whatever we may say of the results of such contact in the past, it certainly forms a chapter in human action not pleasant to look back upon.…
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But the Brute said in his breast, “Till the mills I grind have ceased,The riches shall be dust of dust, dry ashes be the feast! “On the strong and cunning few Cynic favors I will strew;I will stuff their maw with overplus until their spirit dies; From the patient and the low I will take the joys they know; They shall hunger after vanities and still an-hungered go.Madness shall be on…
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I am black but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem,As the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon.Look not upon me, because I am black,Because the sun hath looked upon me:My mother’s children were angry with me;They made me the keeper of the vineyards;But mine own vineyard have I not kept. THE SONG OF SOLOMON. Out of the North the train thundered, and we woke to see the crimson soil of Georgia stretching away bare and monotonous right and left. Here and there lay straggling, unlovely…
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Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside,And naked on the Air of Heaven ride, Were’t not a Shame—were’t not a Shame for himIn this clay carcase crippled to abide? OMAR KHAYYÁM (FITZGERALD). From the shimmering swirl of waters where many, many thoughts ago the slave-ship first saw the square tower of Jamestown, have flowed down to our day three streams of thinking: one swollen from the larger world here and overseas, saying, the multiplying of human wants in…
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O black boy of Atlanta! But half was spoken;The slave’s chains and the master’s Alike are broken;The one curse of the races Held both in tether;They are rising—all are rising— The black and white together. WHITTIER. South of the North, yet north of the South, lies the City of a Hundred Hills, peering out from the shadows of the past into the promise of the future. I have seen her in the morning,…
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Willst Du Deine Macht verkünden,Wähle sie die frei von Sünden,Steh’n in Deinem ew’gen Haus!Deine Geister sende aus!Die Unsterblichen, die Reinen,Die nicht fühlen, die nicht weinen!Nicht die zarte Jungfrau wähle,Nicht der Hirtin weiche Seele! SCHILLER. Once upon a time I taught school in the hills of Tennessee, where the broad dark vale of the Mississippi begins to roll and crumple to greet the Alleghanies. I was a Fisk student then, and all Fisk men thought that Tennessee—beyond the…
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