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Cambridge History of American Literature: volume 3 (ed. Trent, William Peterfield, 1862-1939., Erskine, John, 1879-1951., Sherman, Stuart Pratt, 1881-1926., Van Doren, Carl, 1885-1950.) 114 0 Browse Search
James Russell Lowell, Among my books 80 0 Browse Search
Harper's Encyclopedia of United States History (ed. Benson Lossing) 50 0 Browse Search
George Ticknor, Life, letters and journals of George Ticknor (ed. George Hillard) 46 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Carlyle's laugh and other surprises 38 0 Browse Search
Cambridge History of American Literature: volume 2 (ed. Trent, William Peterfield, 1862-1939., Erskine, John, 1879-1951., Sherman, Stuart Pratt, 1881-1926., Van Doren, Carl, 1885-1950.) 32 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Henry Walcott Boynton, Reader's History of American Literature 30 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Atlantic Essays 28 0 Browse Search
Frank Preston Stearns, Cambridge Sketches 28 0 Browse Search
Knight's Mechanical Encyclopedia (ed. Knight) 20 0 Browse Search
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Browsing named entities in Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Afternoon landscape: poems and translations. You can also browse the collection for Shakespeare or search for Shakespeare in all documents.

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Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Afternoon landscape: poems and translations, chapter 10 (search)
Since Cleopatra died. Since Cleopatra died, I have lived in such dishonor that the world Doth wonder at my baseness. Shakespeare. “Since Cleopatra died!” Long years are past, In Antony's fancy, since the deed was done. Love counts its epochs, not from sun to sun, But by the heart-throb. Mercilessly fast Time has swept onward since she looked her last On life, a queen. For him the sands have run Whole ages through their glass, and kings have won And lost their empires o'er earth's surface vast Since Cleopatra died. Ah! Love and Pain Make their own measure of all things that be. No clock's slow ticking marks their deathless strain; The life they own is not the life we see; Love's single moment is eternity: Eternity, a thought in Shakspeare's br
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Afternoon landscape: poems and translations, To the memory of H. H. (search)
To the memory of H. H. O soul of fire within a woman's clay! Lifting with slender hands a race's wrong, Whose mute appeal hushed all thine early song, And taught thy passionate heart the loftier way,--What shall thy place be in the realm of day? What disembodied world can hold thee long, Binding thy turbulent pulse with spell more strong? Dwell'st thou, with wit and jest, where poets may, Or with ethereal women (born of air And poet's dreams) dost live in ecstasy, Teach new love-thoughts to Shakespeare's Juliet fair, New moods to Cleopatra? Then, set free, The woes of Shelley's Helen thou dost share, Or weep with poor Rossetti's Rose Mary.