This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic, timeless works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable price, in an attractive volume so that everyone can enjoy them.
This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic, timeless works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, af...
This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable price, in an attractive volume so that everyone can enjoy them.
This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable p...
"The National Being Some Thoughts on an Irish Polity" from George William Russell. Irish nationalist, writer, editor, critic, poet, and artistic painter (1853-1919).
"The National Being Some Thoughts on an Irish Polity" from George William Russell. Irish nationalist, writer, editor, critic, poet, and artistic paint...
The publishers of this book thought that a volume of articles and tales written by me during the past twenty-five years would have interest enough to justify publication, and asked me to make a selection. I have not been able to make up a book with only one theme. My temperament would only allow me to be happy when I was working at art.
The publishers of this book thought that a volume of articles and tales written by me during the past twenty-five years would have interest enough to ...
Her mist of primroses within her breast Twilight hath folded up, and o'er the west, Seeking remoter valleys long hath gone, Not yet hath come her sister of the dawn. Silence and coolness now the earth enfold: Jewels of glittering green, long mists of gold, Hazes of nebulous silver veil the height, And shake in tremors through the shadowy night. Heard through the stillness, as in whispered words, The wandering God-guided wings of birds Ruffle the dark.
Her mist of primroses within her breast Twilight hath folded up, and o'er the west, Seeking remoter valleys long hath gone, Not yet hath come her sist...