Painted Windows

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George H. Doran Company, 1918 - 110 pages
 

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Page 74 - I am dying, Egypt, dying; Ebbs the crimson life-tide fast; And the dark Plutonian shadows Gather on the evening blast!
Page 79 - O, fruit loved of boyhood, the old days recalling When wood grapes were purpling and brown nuts were falling, When wild, ugly faces we carved In its skin. Glaring out through the dark, with a candle within! When we laughed 'round the...
Page 72 - It had, in the beginning, belonged to my Aunt Bess, and in the days of its first glory had been a sheer Irish linen lawn, with tiny green harps on it at agreeable intervals. But in the course of time, it had to be sent to the wash-tub, and then, behold, all the little lovely harps followed the example of the harp that "once through Tara's hall the soul of music shed,

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