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Booth, Edwin
(Encyclopedia) Booth, Edwin, 1833–93, one of the first great American actors and the most famous of his era, b. “Tudor Hall,” near Bel Air, Md. After years of touring with his father, Junius Brutus…aesthetics
(Encyclopedia) aestheticsaestheticsĕsthĕtˈĭks [key], the branch of philosophy that is concerned with the nature of art and the criteria of artistic judgment. The classical conception of art as the…Abram Piatt ANDREW, Jr., Congress, MA (1873-1936)
ANDREW Abram Piatt, Jr. , a Representative from Massachusetts; born in La Porte, La Porte County, Ind., February 12, 1873; attended the public schools and the Lawrenceville (N.J.) School; was…A. E. Housman: Along the fields as we came by
Along the fields as we came by A year ago, my love and I, The aspen over stile and stone Was talking to itself alone. "Oh who are these that kiss and pass? A country lover and his lass; Two…A. E. Housman: As through the wild green hills of Wyre
As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire, And far behind, a fading crest, Low in the forsaken west Sank the high-reared head of Clee, My hand lay empty…A. E. Housman: Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle,
Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,—call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days…A. E. Housman: Bring, in this timeless grave to throw,
Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling…A. E. Housman: Far in a western brookland
Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know.There, in the windless night-time, The wanderer, marvelling why, Halts on the bridge…A. E. Housman: "Farewell to barn and stack and tree,
"Farewell to barn and stack and tree, Farewell to Severn shore. Terence, look your last at me, For I come home no more."The sun burns on the half-mown hill, By now the blood is dried; And…A. E. Housman: From far, from eve and morning
From far, from eve and morning And yon twelve-winded sky, The stuff of life to knit me Blew hither: here am I.Now— for a breath I tarry Nor yet disperse apart— Take my hand quick and tell…Trending
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