Lays and Legends (Second Series) - E. Nesbit - E-Book
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Lays and Legends (Second Series) E-Book

E. Nesbit

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Beschreibung

In "Lays and Legends (Second Series)," E. Nesbit delivers a captivating collection of poetic narratives that blend folklore, adventure, and whimsy. The book showcases her masterful command of language, employing vivid imagery and rhythmic verse to transport readers to fantastical realms where traditional tales undergo vivid reimaginings. This series is a sequel to her earlier compilation, placing it within the rich context of late Victorian children'Äôs literature, which often sought to reclaim and revitalize the mythic traditions of British folklore through a modern lens. Each piece is laced with Nesbit's unique blend of humor and social commentary, revealing the moral complexities of her characters' quests while remaining deeply engaging for both children and adults alike. E. Nesbit, a pioneering figure in children'Äôs literature and an early advocate for social reform, drew inspiration from her own childhood experiences and her passionate involvement in socialist politics. Living in a time of significant societal change, she infused her works with themes of bravery, social justice, and the importance of camaraderie. Her ability to weave deep emotional truths with fantasy is a hallmark of her extensive oeuvre, and "Lays and Legends" stands as a testament to her inventive spirit. This enchanting collection is a must-read for anyone interested in the evolution of fairy tales and legends, as well as those who appreciate the intricate interplay between magic and reality. Readers will find not only joy in Nesbit's lyrical style but also thought-provoking narratives that resonate with timeless themes, making it a rich addition to the literary canon.

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E. Nesbit

Lays and Legends (Second Series)

Published by Good Press, 2019
EAN 4064066186531

Table of Contents

BRIDAL BALLAD.
THE GHOST.
THE MODERN JUDAS.
THE SOUL TO THE IDEAL.
A DEATH-BED.
THE LOST SOUL AND THE SAVED.
AT THE PRISON GATE.
THE DEVIL'S DUE.
LOVE IN JUNE.
THE GARDEN.
PRAYER UNDER GRAY SKIES.
A GREAT INDUSTRIAL CENTRE.
LONDON'S VOICES
THE SICK JOURNALIST.
TWO LULLABIES.
BABY SONG.
LULLABY.
AN EAST-END TRAGEDY.
HERE AND THERE.
MOTHER.
A BALLAD OF CANTERBURY.
MORNING.
THE PRAYER.
THE RIVER MAIDENS.
ON THE MEDWAY.
THE BETROTHAL.
A TRAGEDY.
LOVE.
LOVE SONG.
THE QUARREL.
CHANGE.
THE MILL.
RONDEAU.
A MÉSALLIANCE.
THE LAST THOUGHT.
APOLLO AND THE MEN OF CYMÉ.
AT THE PRIVATE VIEW.
A DIRGE IN GRAY.
THE WOMAN'S WORLD.
THE LIGHTHOUSE.
TO A YOUNG POET.
THE TEMPTATION.
THE BALLAD OF SIR HUGH.
FEBRUARY.
APRIL.
JUNE.
JULY.
NOVEMBER.
ROCHESTER CASTLE.
RUCKINGE CHURCH.
RYE.
THE BALLAD OF THE TWO SPELLS.
IN MEMORIAM
RONDEAU.
RONDEAU.
TO WALTER SICKERT.
OLD AGE.
INDEX.

BRIDAL BALLAD.

Table of Contents
"Come, fill me flagons full and fair
Of red wine and of white,
And, maidens mine, my bower prepare—
It is my wedding night.
"And braid my hair with jewels bright,
And make me fair and fine—
This is the day that brings the night
When my desire is mine."
They decked her bower with roses blown,
With rushes strewed the floor,
And sewed more jewels on her gown
Than ever she wore before.
She wore two roses in her face,
Two jewels in her e'en,
Her hair was crowned with sunset rays,
Her brows shone white between.
"Tapers at the bed's foot," she saith,
"Two tapers at the head!"
It seemed more like the bed of death
Than like a bridal bed.
He came; he took her hands in his,
He kissed her on the face;
"There is more heaven in thy kiss
Than in our Lady's grace".
He kissed her once, he kissed her twice,
He kissed her three times o'er;
He kissed her brow, he kissed her eyes,
He kissed her mouth's red flower.
"O Love, what is it ails thy knight?
I sicken and I pine;
Is it the red wine or the white,
Or that sweet kiss of thine?"
"No kiss, no wine or white or red,
Can make such sickness be,
Lie down and die on thy bride-bed
For I have poisoned thee.
"And though the curse of saints and men
Upon me for it be,
I would it were to do again
Since thou wert false to me.
"Thou shouldst have loved or one or none,
Nor she nor I loved twain,
But we are twain thou hast undone,
And therefore art thou slain.
"And when before my God I stand
With no base flesh between,
I shall hold up this guilty hand
And He shall judge it clean."
He fell across the bridal bed
Between the tapers pale:
"I first shall see our God," he said,
"And I will tell thy tale.
"And if God judge thee as I do,
Then art thou justified.
I loved thee and I was not true,
And that was why I died.
"If I could judge thee, thou shouldst be
First of the saints on high;
But ah, I fear God loveth thee
Not half so dear as I!"

THE GHOST.

Table of Contents
The year fades, as the west wind sighs,
And droops in many-coloured ways,
But your soft presence never dies
From out the pathway of my days.
The spring is where you are, but still
You from your heaven to me can bring
Sweet dreams and flowers enough to fill
A thousand empty worlds with Spring.
I walk the wet and leafless woods;
Your shadow ever goes before
And paints the russet solitudes
With colours Summer never wore.
I sit beside my lonely fire;
The ghostly twilight brings your face
And lights with memory and desire
My desolated dwelling-place.
Among my books I feel your hand
That turns the page just past my sight,
Sometimes behind my chair you stand
And read the foolish rhymes I write.
The old piano's keys I press
In random chords until I hear
Your voice, your rustling silken dress,
And smell the violets that you wear.
I do not weep now any more,
I think I hardly even sigh;
I would not have you think I bore
The kind of wound of which men die.
Believe that smooth content has grown
Over the ghastly grave of pain—
"Content!" … O lips, that were my own,
That I shall never kiss again!

THE MODERN JUDAS.

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For what wilt thou sell thy Lord?
"For certain pieces of silver, since wealth buys the world's good word."
But the world's word, how canst thou hear it, while thy brothers cry scorn on thy name?
And how shall thy bargain content thee, when thy brothers shall clothe thee with shame?
For what shall thy brother be sold?
"For the rosy garland of pleasure, and the coveted crown of gold."
But thy soul will turn them to thorns, and to heaviness binding thy head,
While women are dying of shame, and children are crying for bread.
For what wilt thou sell thy soul?
"For the world." And what shall it profit, when thou shalt have gained the whole?
What profit the things thou hast, if the thing thou art be so mean?
Wilt thou fill, with the husks of having, the void of the might-have-been?
"But, when my soul shall be gone,
No more shall I fail to profit by all the deeds I have done!
And wealth and the world and pleasure shall sing sweet songs in my ear
When the stupid soul is silenced, which never would let me hear.
"And if a void there should be
I shall not feel it or know it; it will be nothing to me!"
It will be nothing to thee, and thou shalt be nothing to men
But a ghost whose treasure is lost, and who shall not find it again.
"But I shall have pleasure and praise!"
Praise shall not pleasure thee then, nor pleasure laugh in thy days:
For as colour is not, without light, so happiness is not, without
Thy Brother, the Lord whom thou soldest—and the soul that thou hast cast out!

THE SOUL TO THE IDEAL.

Table of Contents
I will not hear thy music sweet!
If I should listen, then I know
I should no more know friend from foe,
But follow thy capricious feet—
Thy wings, than mine so much more fleet—
I will not go!
I will not go away! Away
From reeds and pool why should I go
To where sun burns, and hot winds blow?
Here sleeps cool twilight all the day;
Do I not love thy tune? No, no!
I will not say!
I will not say I love thy tune;
I do not know if so it be;
It surely is enough for me
To know I love cool rest at noon,
Spread thy bright wings—ah, go—go soon!
I will not see!
I will not see thy gleaming wings,
I will not hear thy music clear.
It is not love I feel, but fear;
I love the song the marsh-frog sings,
But thine, which after-sorrow brings,
I will not hear!

A DEATH-BED.

Table of Contents

A man of like passions with ourselves.

It is too late, too late!