The Little ReviewVol. IIDECEMBER, 1915No. 9Copyright, 1915, by Margaret C. Anderson
The Little Review
Vol. IIDECEMBER, 1915No. 9
Vol. IIDECEMBER, 1915No. 9
Vol. II
DECEMBER, 1915
No. 9
Copyright, 1915, by Margaret C. Anderson
Edward J. O’Brien
The scent of mint on the sandy grave of NiciasCrieth unto the wandererFor remembrance.
The scent of mint on the sandy grave of NiciasCrieth unto the wandererFor remembrance.
The scent of mint on the sandy grave of NiciasCrieth unto the wandererFor remembrance.
The scent of mint on the sandy grave of Nicias
Crieth unto the wanderer
For remembrance.
Here in the arms of the harvestLieth the gleaner, Bion,Whose sickle shineth above him in the evening.
Here in the arms of the harvestLieth the gleaner, Bion,Whose sickle shineth above him in the evening.
Here in the arms of the harvestLieth the gleaner, Bion,Whose sickle shineth above him in the evening.
Here in the arms of the harvest
Lieth the gleaner, Bion,
Whose sickle shineth above him in the evening.
Far from tides and sandOn the slope of CithaeronResteth EumenesIn the purple distance.His fellow tunny-fishers erect this stone.
Far from tides and sandOn the slope of CithaeronResteth EumenesIn the purple distance.His fellow tunny-fishers erect this stone.
Far from tides and sandOn the slope of CithaeronResteth EumenesIn the purple distance.His fellow tunny-fishers erect this stone.
Far from tides and sand
On the slope of Cithaeron
Resteth Eumenes
In the purple distance.
His fellow tunny-fishers erect this stone.
Chaste Clearista flowereth in the heavens,For dearer than Helen’s beauty in April sunlightThe gods love the spotless dreams of a maiden.
Chaste Clearista flowereth in the heavens,For dearer than Helen’s beauty in April sunlightThe gods love the spotless dreams of a maiden.
Chaste Clearista flowereth in the heavens,For dearer than Helen’s beauty in April sunlightThe gods love the spotless dreams of a maiden.
Chaste Clearista flowereth in the heavens,
For dearer than Helen’s beauty in April sunlight
The gods love the spotless dreams of a maiden.
Fairer than iris blossoms slenderly swayingUnder the sighing zephyrs of sandy Argos,The harvest breezes stole the heart of Erinna.Now she dreameth under the meadow grasses.
Fairer than iris blossoms slenderly swayingUnder the sighing zephyrs of sandy Argos,The harvest breezes stole the heart of Erinna.Now she dreameth under the meadow grasses.
Fairer than iris blossoms slenderly swayingUnder the sighing zephyrs of sandy Argos,The harvest breezes stole the heart of Erinna.Now she dreameth under the meadow grasses.
Fairer than iris blossoms slenderly swaying
Under the sighing zephyrs of sandy Argos,
The harvest breezes stole the heart of Erinna.
Now she dreameth under the meadow grasses.
The swan afloat on the rippling azure watersRemembereth thy fairness, Rhododaphne,And dreameth on time’s surface of thy passing.
The swan afloat on the rippling azure watersRemembereth thy fairness, Rhododaphne,And dreameth on time’s surface of thy passing.
The swan afloat on the rippling azure watersRemembereth thy fairness, Rhododaphne,And dreameth on time’s surface of thy passing.
The swan afloat on the rippling azure waters
Remembereth thy fairness, Rhododaphne,
And dreameth on time’s surface of thy passing.
Nerissa played with the swallows till the twilight.Now they soar above her,And they wonder.
Nerissa played with the swallows till the twilight.Now they soar above her,And they wonder.
Nerissa played with the swallows till the twilight.Now they soar above her,And they wonder.
Nerissa played with the swallows till the twilight.
Now they soar above her,
And they wonder.
Barefoot, a little lad hath wandered far,And we have sought in vain,For he hath foundThe amaranthine meadows.
Barefoot, a little lad hath wandered far,And we have sought in vain,For he hath foundThe amaranthine meadows.
Barefoot, a little lad hath wandered far,And we have sought in vain,For he hath foundThe amaranthine meadows.
Barefoot, a little lad hath wandered far,
And we have sought in vain,
For he hath found
The amaranthine meadows.
Far from Cos where the sailors hail in passing,Cleonicus lieth unmarked on the ocean strand.The crying gulls bring tidings of ancient summer,But not to me the sound of his glad coming.
Far from Cos where the sailors hail in passing,Cleonicus lieth unmarked on the ocean strand.The crying gulls bring tidings of ancient summer,But not to me the sound of his glad coming.
Far from Cos where the sailors hail in passing,Cleonicus lieth unmarked on the ocean strand.The crying gulls bring tidings of ancient summer,But not to me the sound of his glad coming.
Far from Cos where the sailors hail in passing,
Cleonicus lieth unmarked on the ocean strand.
The crying gulls bring tidings of ancient summer,
But not to me the sound of his glad coming.
Now that the flower is blownAnd the rosy petalsRender earth more fragrantWith their body,Myrrhis dreameth of spring in the flaming ground.
Now that the flower is blownAnd the rosy petalsRender earth more fragrantWith their body,Myrrhis dreameth of spring in the flaming ground.
Now that the flower is blownAnd the rosy petalsRender earth more fragrantWith their body,Myrrhis dreameth of spring in the flaming ground.
Now that the flower is blown
And the rosy petals
Render earth more fragrant
With their body,
Myrrhis dreameth of spring in the flaming ground.
Lightly I walked the hills of my native Hellas.Lightly I rest in the heart of her rushing forest,Hermas, the hunter,At peace,With the moon above me.
Lightly I walked the hills of my native Hellas.Lightly I rest in the heart of her rushing forest,Hermas, the hunter,At peace,With the moon above me.
Lightly I walked the hills of my native Hellas.Lightly I rest in the heart of her rushing forest,Hermas, the hunter,At peace,With the moon above me.
Lightly I walked the hills of my native Hellas.
Lightly I rest in the heart of her rushing forest,
Hermas, the hunter,
At peace,
With the moon above me.
Thyrsis, who loved the rain in the dreaming hollows,Wandereth now soft-sandalled in misty ways,Where the scent of flagRecalleth notHylas, lonely.
Thyrsis, who loved the rain in the dreaming hollows,Wandereth now soft-sandalled in misty ways,Where the scent of flagRecalleth notHylas, lonely.
Thyrsis, who loved the rain in the dreaming hollows,Wandereth now soft-sandalled in misty ways,Where the scent of flagRecalleth notHylas, lonely.
Thyrsis, who loved the rain in the dreaming hollows,
Wandereth now soft-sandalled in misty ways,
Where the scent of flag
Recalleth not
Hylas, lonely.