Andrew Lang

Andrew Lang

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Andrew Lang (31 March 1844 – 20 July 1912) was a Scottish poet, novelist, literary critic, and contributor to the field of anthropology. He is best known as a collector of folk and fairy tales. The Andrew Lang lectures at the University of St Andrews are named after him.
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A Highly Valuable Chain Of Thoughts

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Had cigarettes no ashes,
And roses ne'er a thorn,
No man would be a
Of whin, or burn, or bunker
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Scythe Song

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RS, weary and brown, and blithe, What is the word methinks ye know, Endless over-word that the Scythe Sings to the blades of the grass below
Scythes that swing in the grass and clover, Something, still, they say as they pass; What is the word...
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Three Portraits Of Prince Charles

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UL face of a child, Lighted with laughter and glee, Mirthful, and tender, and wild, My heart is heavy for thee
Beautiful face of a youth, As an eagle poised to fly forth To the old land loyal of truth, To the hills and the sounds of the North...
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Villanelle

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Apollo left the golden Muse  And shepherded a mortal's sheep,
Theocritus of Syracuse
To mock the giant swain that woo's  The sea-nymph in the sunny deep,
Apollo left the golden Muse
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Les Roses de Sâdi

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This morning I vowed I would bring thee my roses,
They were thrust in the band that my bodice encloses;
But the breast-knots were broken, the roses went free
The breast-knots were broken; the roses together Floated forth on the wing...
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On Calais Sands

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ON Calais Sands the gray began, Then rosy red above they gray; The morn with many a scarlet van Leaped, and the world was glad with May
The little waves along the bay Broke white upon the shelving strands; The sea-mews flitted white as they O...
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Ideal

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Ah, mystic child of Beauty, nameless maid, Dateless and fatherless, how long ago,
A Greek, with some rare sadness overweighed, Shaped thee, perchance, and quite forgot his woe
Or Raphael thy sweetness did bestow,
While magical his f...
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In Ithica

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'Tis thought Odysseus when the strife was o'er With all the waves and wars, a weary while, Grew restless in his disenchanted isle,
And still would watch the sunset, from the shore,
Go down the ways of gold, and evermore His sad heart fol...
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The Odyssey

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AS one that for a weary space has lain Lull'd by the song of Circe and her wine In gardens near the pale of Proserpine,
Where that Aeaean isle forgets the main,
And only the low lutes of love complain, And only shadows of wan lovers pine...
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The Douglas Tragedy

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"Rise up, rise up now,
Lord Douglas," she says,"And put on your armour so bright;
Let it never be said that a daughter of
Was married to a lord under night
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The Burial Of Moliere

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Dead--he is dead
The rouge has left a trace  On that thin cheek where shone, perchance, a tear,  Even while the people laughed that held him
But yesterday
He died,--and not in grace,
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Romance

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MY Love dwelt in a Northern land
A gray tower in a forest green Was hers, and far on either hand The long wash of the waves was seen, And leagues on leagues of yellow sand, The woven forest boughs between
And through the silver Northern ...
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Melville And Coghill - The Place Of The Little Hand

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AD, with their eyes to the foe, Dead, with the foe at their feet; Under the sky laid low Truly their slumber is sweet, Though the wind from the Camp of the Slain Men blow, And the rain on the wilderness beat
Dead, for they chose to die When t...
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San Terenzo

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ID April seemed like some November day, When through the glassy waters, dull as lead, Our boat, like shadowy barques that bear the dead, Slipped down the long shores of the Spezian bay, Rounded a point,—and San Terenzo
Before us, that gay vil...
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