{"numero_id": "bm-bmtnaav-1914-04-01", "volume": "bmtnaav_1914-04_01", "ocr_sha256": "041a06deab93fe1269ffa00731f7a0b00acbec17e0204ac95f2f17f8bf45c6f3", "source_tei": "https://github.com/Princeton-CDH/bluemountain-transcriptions/blob/main/periodicals/bmtnaav/issues/1914/04_01/bmtnaav_1914-04_01.tei.xml", "source_mets": "https://github.com/pulibrary/BlueMountain/blob/main/metadata/periodicals/bmtnaav/issues/1914/04_01/bmtnaav_1914-04_01.mets.xml", "url_numero": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01", "articles": [{"article_id": "bm-bmtnaav-1914-04-01-c001", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaav_1914-04_01#c001", "volume": "bmtnaav_1914-04_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[60]", "page_fin": "[60]", "image_debut": 3, "image_fin": 3, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.2.1", "titre_corps": "Lascelles Abercrombie", "titre_sommaire": "Lascelles Abercrombie", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 3, "page_imprimee": "[60]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.3", "debut_caractere": 53, "fin_caractere_exclue": 127, "texte": "Lascelles Abercrombie\nJohn Drink water\nRupert Brooke\nWilfrid Wilson Gibson"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaav-1914-04-01-c002", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaav_1914-04_01#c002", "volume": "bmtnaav_1914-04_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "61", "page_fin": "96", "image_debut": 4, "image_fin": 39, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.2.2", "titre_corps": "THE END OF THE WORLD", "titre_sommaire": "THE END OF THE WORLD", "signature_source": "Lascelles Abercrombie", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 4, "page_imprimee": "61", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.4", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1034, "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD\nLascelles Abercrombie\n(To E.M.)\nPERSONS.\nHUFF, the Farmer. SHALE, the Labourer.\nSOLLERS, the Wainwright. A DOWSER.\nMERRICK, the Smith. Mrs. HUFF.\nVINE, the Publican. WARP, the Molecatcher.\nMen and Women of the Village.\nACT I.\nScene ; A Public House kitchen. HUFF the Farmer and SOLLERS\nthe Wainwright talking ; another man, a stranger, sitting silent.\nHuff: Ay, you may think we're well off—\nSoilers : Now for croaks !\nOld toad ! who's trodden on you now ?—Go on ;\nBut if you can, croak us a new tune.\nHuff: Ay,\nYou think you're well off—and don't grab my words\nBefore they're spoken—but some folks, I've heard,\nPity us, living quiet in the valley.\nSoilers : Well, I suppose 'tis their affair.\nHuff: Is it ?\nBut what I mean to say,—if they think small\nOf us that live in the valley, mayn't it show\nThat we aren't all so happy as we think ?\nMERRICK the Smith comes in.\nMerrick : Quick, cider ! I believe I've swallowed a coal.\nSollers : Good evening. True, the heat's a wonder to-night.\n[Smith draws himself cider."}, {"page_pdf": 5, "page_imprimee": "62", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.5", "debut_caractere": 46, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1346, "texte": "Huff: Haven't you brought your flute ? We've all got room\nFor music in our minds to-night, I'll swear.\nWorking all day in the sun do seem to push\nThe thought out of your brain.\nSollers : O, 'tis the sun\nHas trodden on you ? That's what makes you croak ?\nAy, whistle him somewhat: put a tune in his brain ;\nHe'll else croak us out of pleasure with drinking.\nMerrick : 'Tis quenching, I believe.—A tune ? Too hot.\nYou want a fiddler.\nHuff: Nay, I want your flute.\nI like a piping sound, not scraping o' guts.\nMerrick : This is no weather for a man to play\nFlutes or music at all that asks him spend\nHis breath and spittle : you want both yourself\nThese oven days. Wait till a fiddler comes.\nHuff: Who ever comes down here ?\nSollers : There's someone come.\n[Pointing with his pipe to the stranger.\nMerrick : Good evening, mister. Are you a man for tunes ?\nStranger : And if I was, I'd give you none to-night.\nMerrick : Well, no offence : there's no offence, I hope,\nIn taking a dummy for a tuneful man.\nIs it for can't or won't you are ?\nStranger : You wouldn't, if you carried in your mind\nWhat I've been carrying all day.\nSollers : What's that ?\nStranger : You wait; you'll know about it soon ; O yes,\nSoon enough it will find you out and rouse you.\nHuff: Now ain't that just the way we go down here ?"}, {"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "63", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.6", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1385, "texte": "Here in the valley we're like dogs in a yard,\nChained to our kennels and wall'd in all round,\nAnd not a sound of the world jumps over our hills.\nAnd when there conies a passenger among us,\nOne who has heard what's stirring out beyond,\n'Tis a grutchy mumchance fellow in the dismals !\nStranger : News, is it, you want ? I could give you news !—\nI wonder, did you ever hate to feel\nThe earth so fine and splendid ?\nHuff: O, you're one\nHas stood in the brunt of the world's wickedness,\nIyike me ? But listen, and I'll give you a tale\nOf wicked things done in this little valley,\nDone against me, will surely make you think\nThe Devil here fetcht up his masterpiece.\nSoilers : Ah, but it's hot enough without you talking\nYour old hell fire about that pair of sinners.\nIyeave them alone and drink.\nHuff: I'll smell them grilling\nOne of these days.\nMerrick : But there'll be nought to drink\nWhen that begins! Best keep your skin full now.\nStranger : What do I care for wickedness ? Let those\nWho've played with dirt, and thought the game was bold,\nMake much of it while they can : there's a big thing\nComing down to us, ay, well on it's road,\nWill make their ploys seem mighty piddling sport.\nHuff: This is a fool; or else it's what I think,—\nThe world now breeds such crowd that they've no room\nFor well grown sins : they hatch 'em small as flies."}, {"page_pdf": 7, "page_imprimee": "64", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.7", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1297, "texte": "But you stay here, out of the world awhile,\nHere where a man's mind, and a woman's mind,\nCan fling out large in wickedness: you'll see\nSomething monstrous here, something dreadful.\nStranger: I've seen enough of that. Though it was only\nFancying made me see it, it was enough:\nI've seen the folk of the world yelling aghast,\nScurrying to hide themselves. I want nought else\nMonstrous and dreadful.—\nMerrick : What had roused 'em so ?\nSome house afire ?\nHuff: A huzzy flogged to death\nFor her hard-faced adultery ?\nStranger (too intent to hear them) : Oto think of it!\nTalk, do, chatter some nonsense, else I'll think:\nAnd then I'm feeling like a grub that crawls\nAll abroad in a dusty road; and high\nAbove me, and shaking the ground beneath me, come\nWheels of a thundering wain, right where I'm plodding.\nSollers : Queer thinking, that.\nStranger : And here's a queerer thing.\nI have a sort of lust in me, pushing me still\nInto that terrible way of thinking, like\nBlack men in India lie them down and long\nTo feel their holy wagon crack their spines.\nMerrick : Do you mean beetles ? I've driven over scores,\nThey sprawling on their backs, or standing mazed.\nI never knew they liked it.\nSollers : He means frogs.\nI know what's in his mind. When I was young"}, {"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "65", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.8", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1386, "texte": "My mother would catch us frogs and set them down,\nL,apt in a screw of paper, in the ruts,\nAnd carts going by would quash 'em ; and I'ld laugh,\nAnd yet be thinking, \" Suppose it was myself\nTwisted stiff in huge paper, and wheels\nBig as the wall of a barn treading me flat! \"\nHuff: I know what's in his mind : just madness it is.\nHe's lookt too hard at his fellows in the world;\nSight of their monstrous hearts, like devils in cages,\nHas jolted all the gearing of his wits.\nIt needs a tough brain, ay, a brain like mine,\nTo pore on ugly sin and not go mad.\nStranger : Madness ! You're not far out.—I came up here\nTo be alone and quiet in my thoughts,\nAlone in my own dreadful mind. The path,\nOf red sand trodden hard, went up between\nHigh hedges overgrown of hawthorn blowing\nWhite as clouds; ay it seemed burrowed through\nA white sweet-smelling cloud,—I walking there\nSmall as a hare that runs its tunnelled drove\nThro' the close heather. And beside my feet\nBlue greygles drifted gleaming over the grass;\nAnd up I climbed to sunlight green in birches,\nAnd the path turned to daisies among grass\nWith bonfires of the broom beside, like flame\nOf burning straw : and I lookt into your valley.\nI could scarce look.\nAnger was smarting in my eyes like grit.\nO the fine earth and fine all for nothing !\nMazed I walkt, seeing and smelling and hearing:"}, {"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "66", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.9", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1251, "texte": "The meadow lands all shining fearfully gold,—\nCruel as fire the sight of them toucht my mind;\nBreathing was all a honey taste of clover\nAnd bean flowers : I would have rather had it\nCarrion, or the stink of smouldering brimstone.\nAnd larks aloft, the happy piping fools,\nAnd squealing swifts that slid on hissing wings,\nAnd yellowhammers playing spry in hedges:\nI never noted them before ; but now—\nYes, I was mad, and crying mad, to see\nThe earth so fine, fine all for nothing !\nSoilers : {spits) : Pst! yellow hammers ! He talks gentry talk.\nThat's worse than being mad.\nStranger : I tell you, you'll be feeling them to-morn\nAnd hating them to be so wonderful.\nMerrick : Let's have some sense. Where do you live ?\nStranger: Nowhere .\nI'm always travelling.\nHuff: Why, what's you trade ?\nStranger : A dowser.\nHuff: You're the man for me!\nStranger : Not I.\nHuff: Ho, this is better than a fiddler now !\nOne of those fellows who have nerves so clever\nThat they can feel the waters of underground\nTingling in their fingers ?\nYou find me a spring in my high grazing-field,\n111 give you what I save in trundling water.\nStranger : I find you water now !—No, but 111 find you\nFire and fear and unbelievable death."}, {"page_pdf": 10, "page_imprimee": "67", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.10", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1193, "texte": "VINE the Publican comes in.\nVine : Are ye all served ? Ay, seems so ; what's your score ?\nMerrick : Two ciders.\nHuff: Three.\nSollers : And two for me.\nVine (to Dowser) : And you ?\nDowser : Naught. I was waiting on you.\nVine : Will you drink ?\nDowser : Ay ! Drink ! what else is left for a man to do\nWho knows what I know ?\nVine : Good. What is't you know ?\nYou tell it out and set my trade a-buzzing.\nSollers : He's queer. Give him his mug and ease his tongue.\nVine : I had to swill the pigs : else I'd been here ;\nBut we've the old fashion in this house ; you draw,\nI keep the score. Well, what's the worry on you ?\nSollers : O he's in love.\nDowser : You fleering grinning louts,\nI'll give it you now ; now have it in your faces !\nSollers : Crimini, he's going to fight!\nDowser : You try and fight with the thing that's on my side!\nMerrick : A ranter !\nHuff: A boozy one then.\nDowser : Open yon door ;\n'Tis dark enough by now. Open it, you.\nVine : Hold on. Have you got something fierce outside ?\nMerrick : A Russian bear ?\nSollers : Dowsers can play strange games.\nHuff: No tricks !\nDowser : This is a trick to rouse the world.\n[He opens the door."}, {"page_pdf": 11, "page_imprimee": "68", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.11", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1273, "texte": "Ivook out! Between the elms ! There's my fierce thing.\nMerrick : He means the star with the tail like a feather of fire.\nSoilers : Comet, it's called.\nHuff: Do you mean the comet, mister ?\nDowser : What do you think of it ?\nHuff: Pretty enough.\nBut I saw a man loose off a rocket once;\nIt made more stir and flare of itself ; though yon\nDoes better at steady burning.\nDowser : Stir and flare !\nYou'll soon forget your rocket.\nMerrick : Tell you what\nI thought last night, now, going home. Says I,\n'Tis just the look of a tadpole : if I saw\nA tadpole silver as a dace that swam\nUpside-down towards me through black water,\nlld see the plain spit of that star and his tail.\nSoilers : And how does your thought go ?\nDowser : It's what I know!—\nA tadpole and a rocket!—My dear God,\nAnd I can still laugh out!—What do you think\nYour tadpole's made of ? What lets your rocket fling\nThose streaming sparks across the half of night,\nSplashing the burning spray of its haste among\nThe quiet business of the other stars ?\nAy, that's a fiery jet it leaves behind\nIn such enormous drift! What sort of fire\nIs spouted so, spouted and never quenching ?—\nThere is no name for that star's fire : it is\nThe fire that was before the world was made,"}, {"page_pdf": 12, "page_imprimee": "69", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.12", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1382, "texte": "The fire that all the things we live among\nRemember being; and whitest fire we know\nIs its poor copy in their dreaming trance!\nHuff: That would be hell fire.\nDowser : Ay, if you like, hell fire,\nHell fire flying through the night! 'Twould be\nA thing to blink about, a blast of it\nSwept in your face, eh ? and a thing to set\nThe whole stuff of the earth smoking rarely ?\nWhich of you said \" the heat's a wonder to-night \" ?\nYou have not done with marvelling. There'll come\nA night when all your clothes are a pickle of sweat,\nAnd, for all that, the sweat on your salty skin\nShall dry and crack, in the breathing of a wind\nThat's like a draught come through an open'd furnace.\nThe leafage of the trees shall brown and faint,\nAll sappy growth turning to brittle rubbish\nAs the near heat of the star strokes the green earth;\nAnd time shall brush the fields as visibly\nAs a rough hand brushes against the nap\nOf gleaming cloth—killing the season's colour,\nEach hour charged with the wasting of a year;\nAnd sailors panting on their warping decks\nWill watch the sea steam like broth about them.\nYou'll know what I know then!—That towering star\nHangs like a fiery buzzard in the night\nIntent over our earth—-Ay, now his journey\nPoints, straight as a plummet's drop, down to us!\nHuff: Why, that's the end of the world!\nDowser : You've said it now."}, {"page_pdf": 13, "page_imprimee": "70", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.13", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1351, "texte": "Sollers : What, soon ? In a day or two ?\nMerrick : You can't mean that!\nVine : End of the World ! Well now, I never thought\nTo hear the news of that. If you've the truth\nIn what you say, likely this is an evening\nThat we'll be talking over often and often.\n\" How was it, Sollers ?\" I'll say; \"or you, Merrick,\nDo you mind clearly how he lookt ? \"—And then—\n\" 'End of the world !' he said, and drank—like that,\nSolemn ! \"—And right he was : he had it all\nAs sure as I have when my sow's to farrow.\nDowser: Are you making a joke of me ? Keep your mind\nFor tippling while you can.\nVine : Was that a joke ?\nI'm always bad at seeing 'em, even my own.\nDowser : A fool's! 'Twill cheer you when the earth blows up\nLike as it were all gunpowder.\nVine: You mean\nThe star will butt his burning head against us ?\n'Twill knock the world to flinders, I suppose ?\nDowser : Ay, or with that wild monstrous tail of his\nSmash down upon the air, and make it bounce\nLike water under the flukes of a harpooned whale,\nAnd thrash it to a poisonous fire; and we\nAnd all the life of the world drowned in blazing!\nVine : 'Twill be a handsome sight. If my old wife\nWere with me now! This would have suited her.\n\" I do like things to happen ! \" she would say ;\nNever shindy enough for her; and now\nShe's gone, and can't be seeing this!"}, {"page_pdf": 14, "page_imprimee": "71", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.14", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1329, "texte": "Dowser : You poor fool.\nHow will it be a sight to you, when your eyes\nAre scorcht to little cinders in your head ?\nVine : Whether or no, there must be folks outside\nWilling to know of this. I'll scatter your news.\n[He goes.\n[A short pause : then SOLLERS breaks out..\nSollers : No, no ; it wouldn't do for me at all;\nNor for you neither, Merrick ? End of the World ?\nBogy ! A parson's tale or a bairn's !\nMerrick : That's it.\nYour trade's a gift, easy as playing tunes.\nBut Sollers here and I, we've had to drill\nSinew and muscle into their hard lesson,\nUntil they work in timber and glowing iron\nAs kindly as I pick up my pint: your work\nGrows in your nature, like plain speech in a child,\nBut we have learnt to think in a foreign tongue;\nAnd something must come out of all our skill!\nWe shan't go sliding down as glib as you\nInto notions of the End of the World.\nSollers : Give me a tree, you may say, and give me steel,.\nAnd I'll put forth my shapely mind ; I'll make,\nOut of my head like telling a well-known tale,\nA wain that goes as comely on the roads\nAs a ship sailing, the lines of it true as gospel.\nHave I learnt that all for nothing ?—O no !\nEnd of the World ? It wouldn't do at all.\nNo more making of wains, after I've spent\nMy time in getting the right skill in my hands ?"}, {"page_pdf": 15, "page_imprimee": "72", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.15", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1394, "texte": "Dowser : Ay, you begin to feel it now, I think ;\nBut you complain like boys for a game spoilt:\nShaping your carts, forging your iron ! But Iyife,\nL,ife, the mother who lets her children play\nSo seriously busy, trade and craft,—\nIvife with her skill of a million year's perfection\nTo make her heart's delighted glorying\nOf sunlight, and of clouds about the moon,\nSpring lighting her daffodils, and corn\nRipening gold to ruddy, and giant seas,\nAnd mountains sitting in their purple clothes—\n0 life I am thinking of, life the wonder,\nAll blotcht out by a brutal thrust of fire\nIvike a midge that a clumsy thumb squashes and smears.\nHuff: Let me but see the show beginning, though !\nYou'ld mind me then ! O I would like you all\nTo watch how I should figure, when the star\nBrandishes over the whole air its flame\nOf thundering fire ; and naught but yellow rubbish\nParcht on the perishing ground, and there are tongues\nChapt with thirst, glad to lap stinking ponds,\nAnd pale glaring faces spying about\nOn the earth withering, terror the only speech !\nIvook for me then, and see me stand alone\nEasy and pleasant in the midst of it all.\nDid you not make your merry scoff of me ?\nWas it your talk, that when yon shameless pair\nThrew their wantoning in my face like dirt,\n1 had no heart against them but to grumble ?\nYou would be saying that, I know ! But now,"}, {"page_pdf": 16, "page_imprimee": "73", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.16", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1329, "texte": "Now I believe it's time for you to see\nMy patient heart at last taking its wages.\nSollers : Pull up, man ! Screw the brake on your running tongue,\nElse it will rattle you down the tumbling way\nThis fellow's gone.\nMerrick : And one man's enough\nWith brain quagged axledeep in crazy mire.\nWe won't have you beside him in his puddles,\nAnd calling out with him on the End of the World\nTo heave you out with a vengeance.\nHuff: What you want!\nHave I not borne enough to make me know\nI must be righted sometime ? —And what else\nWould break the hardy sin in them, which lets\nTheir souls parade so daring and so tall\nUnder God's hate and mine ? What else could pay\nFor all my wrong but a blow of blazing anger\nStriking down to shiver the earth, and change\nTheir strutting wickedness to horror and crying ?\nMerrick : Be quiet, Huff! If you mean to believe\nThis dowser's stuff, and join him in his bedlam,\nBy God, you'll have to reckon with my fist.\nSHALE comes in. HUFF glares at him speechless, but with\nwrath evidently working.\nShale : Where's the joker ? You, is it ? Here's hot news\nYou've brought us; all the valley's hissing aloud,\nAnd makes as much of you falling into it\nAs a pail of water would of a glowing coal.\nSollers : Don't you start burbling too, Shale.\nShale : That's the word !"}, {"page_pdf": 17, "page_imprimee": "74", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.17", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1284, "texte": "Burbling, simmering, ay and bumpy-boiling :\nAll the women are mobbed together close\nUnder the witan-trees, and their full minds\nBoil like so many pans slung on a fire.\nWhy, starlings trooping in a copse in fall\nCould make no scandal like it.\nMerrick : What is it, man ?\nShale : End of the World! The flying star ! End of the World !\nSollers : They don't believe it though ?\nShale : What ? the whole place\nHas gone just randy over it!\nMerrick : Hold your noise !\nSollers : I shall be daft if this goes on.\nShale : Ay, so ?\nThe End of the World's been here ? You look as though\nYou'd startled lately. And there's the virtuous man !\nHow would End of the World suit our good Huff,\nOur old crab-verjuice Huff ?\nHuff (seizing the DOWSER and bringing him up in front of SHALE)\nIyook at him there !\nThis is the man I told you of, when you\nWere talking small of sin. You made it out,\nDid you, a fool's mere nasty game, like dogs\nThat snuggle in muck, and grin and roll themselves\nWith snoring pleasure ? Ah, but you are wrong.\n'Tis something that goes thrusting dreadfully\nIts wilful bravery of evil against\nThe worth and right of goodness in the world:\nAy, do you see how his face still brags at me ?\nAnd long it has been, the time he's had to walk"}, {"page_pdf": 18, "page_imprimee": "75", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.18", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1351, "texte": "Iyording about me with his wickedness.\nDo you know what he dared ? I had a wife,\nA flighty pretty linnet-headed girl,\nBut mine : he practised on her with his eyes;\nHe knew of luring glances, and she went\nAfter his calling lust: and all since then\nThey've lived together, fleering in my face,\nPleased in sight of the windows of my house\nWith doing wrong, and making my disgrace.\nO but wait here with me; wait till your news\nIs not to be mistaken, for the way\nThe earth buckles and singes like hot boards :\nYou'll surely see how dreadful sin can be\nThen, when you mark these two running about,\nWith raging fear for what they did against me\nBuzzing close to their souls, stinging their hearts,\nAnd they like scampering beasts when clegs are fierce,\nOr flinging themselves low as the ground to writhe,\nTheir arms hugging their desperate heads. And then\nYou'll see what 'tis to be an upright man,\nWho keeps a patient anger for his wrongs\nThinking of judgment coming—you will see that\nWhen you mark how my looks hunt these wretches,\nAnd smile upon their groans and posturing anguish.\nO watch how calm I'll be, when the blazing air\nJudges their wickedness; you watch me then\nIyooking delighted, like a nobleman\nWho sees his horse winning an easy race.\nMerrick : You fool, Huff, you believe it now !\nHuff: You fool,"}, {"page_pdf": 19, "page_imprimee": "76", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.19", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1260, "texte": "Merrick, how should I not believe a thing\nThat calls aloud on my mind and spirit, and they\nAnswer to it like starving conquering soldiers\nTold to break out and loot ?\nShale : You vile old wasp !\nSollers : We've talkt enough : let's all go home and sleep ;\nThere might be a fiend in the air about us, one\nWho pours his will into our minds to see\nHow we can frighten one another.\nHuff: A fiend !\nShale will soon have the flapping wings of a fiend,\nAnd flaming wings, beating about his head.\nThere'll be no air for Shale, very soon now,\nBut the breathing of a fiend : the star's coming !\nThe star that breathes a horrible fury of fire\nIvike glaring fog into the empty night;\nAnd in the gust of its wrath the world will soon\nShrivel and spin like paper in a furnace.\nI knew they both would have to pay me at last\nWith sight of their damned souls for all my wrong !\nShale : Somebody stop his gab.\nMerrick [seizing the DOWSER and shaking him) : Is it the truth ?\nIs it the truth we're in the way of the star ?\nSollers : O let us go home ; let us go home and sleep !\nA crowd of men and women burst in and shout confusedly\n1. Iyook out for the star !\n2. 'Tis moving, moving.\n3. Grows as you stare at it.\n4. Bigger than ever."}, {"page_pdf": 20, "page_imprimee": "77", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.20", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1231, "texte": "1. Down it comes with a diving pounce,\nAs though it had lookt for us and at last found us.\n2. Oso near and coming so quick !\n3. And how the burning hairs of its tail\nDo seem surely to quiver for speed.\n4. We saw its great tail twitch behind it,\n'Tis come so near, so gleaming near.\n1. The tail is wagging !\n2. Come out and see !\n3. The star is wagging its tail and eyeing us—\n4. Like a cat huncht to leap on a bird.\nMerrick : Out of my way and let me see for myself.\n[They all begin to hustle out:\nHUFF speaks in midst of the turmoil.\nHuff: Ay, now begins the just man's reward;\nAnd hatred of the evil thing\nNow is to be satisfied.\nWrong ventured out against me and braved:\nAnd I'll be glad to see all breathing pleasure\nBurn as foolishly to naught\nAs a moth in candle flame,\nIf I but have my will to watch over those\nWho injured me bawling hoarse heartless fear.\nThey are all gone but HUFF, SHALE and the DOWSER.\nShale : As for you, let you and the women make\nYour howling scare of this; I'll stand and laugh.\nBut if it truly were the End of the World,\nI'ld be the man to face it out, not you :\nI who have let life go delighted through me,\nNot you, who've sulkt away your chance of life"}, {"page_pdf": 21, "page_imprimee": "78", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.21", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1175, "texte": "In mumping about being paid for goodness.\n[Going.\nHuff (after him) : You wait, you wait!\n[He follows the rest.\nDowser {alone) : Naught but a plague of flies !\nI cannot do with noises, and light fools\nTerrified round me; I must go out and think\nWhere there is quiet and no one near. O, think !\nLife that has done such wonders with its thinking,\nAnd never daunted in imagining;\nThat has put on the sun and the shining night,\nThe flowering of the earth and tides of the sea,\nAnd irresistible rage of fate itself,\nAll these as garments for its spirit's journey—\n0 now this life, in the brute chance of things,\nMurder'd, uselessly murder'd ! And naught else\nFor ever but senseless rounds of hurrying motion\nThat cannot glory in itself. Ono !\n1 will not think of that; I'll blind my brain\nWith fancying the splendours of destruction ;\nWhen like a burr in the star's fiery mane\nThe crackling earth is caught and rusht along,\nThe forests on the mountains blazing so,\nThat from the rocks of ore beneath them come\nWhite-hot rivers of smelted metal pouring\nAcross the plains to roar into the sea\nThe Curtain is lowered for a few moments only."}, {"page_pdf": 22, "page_imprimee": "79", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.22", "debut_caractere": 45, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1357, "texte": "ACT 11.\nAs before, a little while after. The room is empty when the curtain\ngoes up. SOLLERS runs in and paces about, but stops short\nwhen he catches sight of a pot dog on the mantlepiece.\nSoilers : The pace it is coming down !—What to do now ?—\nMy brain has stopt: it's like a clock that's fallen\nOut of a window and broke all its cogs.—\nWhere's that old cider, Vine would have us pay-\nTwopence a glass for ? Iyet's try how it smells :\nOld Fox whelp, and a humming stingo it is!\n(To the pot dog.)\nHullo, you ! What are you grinning at ? —\nI know! There'll be no score against me for this drink!\n■ \\\nO that score ! I've drunk it down for a week\nWith every gulp of cider, and every gulp\nWas half the beauty it should have been, the score\nSo scratcht my swallowing throat, like a wasp in the drink !\nAnd I need never have heeded it!—\nOld grinning dog! You've seen me happy here ;\nAnd now, all's done ! But do you know this too,\nThat I can break you now, and never called\nTo pay for you ? [Throwing the dog on the floor.\nI shall be savage soon !\nWe're leaving all this!—O, and it was so pleasant\nHere, in here, of an evening. Smash !\n[He sweeps a lot of crockery on to the floor.\nIt's all no good ! Iyet's make a wreck of it all!\n[.Picking up a chair and swinging it.\nDamn me ! Now I'm forgetting to drink, and soon"}, {"page_pdf": 23, "page_imprimee": "80", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.23", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1327, "texte": "'Twill be too late. Where's there a mug not shivered ?\n[He goes to draw himself cider. MERRICK rushes in.\nMerrick : You at the barrels too ? Out of the road!\n[He pushes SOLLERS away and spills his mug.\nSoilers : Go and kick out of doors, you black donkey.\nMerrick : Let me come at the vessel, will you ?\n[They wrestle savagely.\nSollers : Keep off ;\nI'm the first here. Lap what you've spilt of mine.\nMerrick : You with your chiselling and screw-driving,\nYour wooden work, you bidding me, the man\nWho hammers a meaning into red hot iron ?\n[VINE comes in slowly. He is weeping; the two wrestlers stop\nand stare at him, as he sits down, and holds his head in his\nhands, sobbing.\nVine : O this is a cruel affair !\nSollers : Here's Vine crying !\nVine : I've seen the moon.\nMerrick : The moon ? 'Tisn't the moon\nThat's tumbling on us, but yon raging star.\nWhat notion now is clotted in your head ?\nVine : I've seen the moon ; it has nigh broke my heart.\nSollers : Not the moon too jumping out of her ways ?\nVine : No, no;—but going quietly and shining,\nPushing away a flimsy gentle cloud\nThat would drift smoky round her, fending it off\nWith steady rounds of blue ar>d yellow light.\nIt was not much to see. She was no more\nThan a curved bit of silver rind. But I\nNever before so noted her—"}, {"page_pdf": 24, "page_imprimee": "81", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.24", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1297, "texte": "Soilers : What he said,\nThe dowser!\nMerrick : Ay, about his yellowhammers.\nSollers : And there's a kind of stifle in the air\nAlready !\nMerrick : It seems to me, my breathing goes\nAll hot down my wind pipe, hot as cider\nMulled and steaming travels down my swallow.\nSollers : And a queer racing through my ears of blood.\nMerrick : I wonder, is the star come closer still ?\nSollers : O, close, I know, and viciously heading down.\nVine : She was so silver ! And the sun had left\nA kind of tawny red, a dust of fine\nThin light upon the blue where she was lying,—\nJust a curled paring of the moon, amid\nThe faint grey cloud that set the gleaming wheel\nAround the tilted slip of shining silver.\n0 it did seem to me so safe and homely,\nThe moon quietly going about the earth;\nIt's a rare place we have to live in, here ;\nAnd life is such a comfortable thing\nAnd what's the sense of it all ? Naught but to make\nCruel as may be the slaughtering of it. [He breaks down again.\nSollers : It beats my mind! [He begins to walk up and down\ndesperately.\nMerrick : 'Twas bound to come sometime,\nBound to come, I suppose. 'Tis a poor thing\nFor us, to fall plumb in the chance of it;\nBut, now or another time, 'twas bound to be.—\n1 have been thinking back. When I was a lad"}, {"page_pdf": 25, "page_imprimee": "82", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.25", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1354, "texte": "I was delighted with my life : there seemed\nNaught but things to enjoy. Say we were bathing:\nThere Id be the cool smell of the water, and cool\nThe splashing under the trees: but I did loathe\nThe sinking mud slithering round my feet,\nAnd I did love to loathe it so ! And then\nWe'ld troop to kill a wasp's nest; and for sure\nI would be stung; and if I liked the dusk\nAnd singing and the game of it all, I loved\nThe smart of the stings, and fleeing the buzzing furies.\nAnd sometimes I'ld be looking at myself\nMaking so much of everything; there'ld seem\nA part of me speaking about myself:\n\"You know, this is much more than being happy.\n'Tis hunger of some power in you, that lives\nOn your heart's welcome for all sorts of luck,\nBut always looks beyond you for its meaning.\"\nAnd that's the way the world's kept going on,\nI believe now. Misery and delight\nHave both had liking welcome from it, both\nHave made the world keen to be glad and sorry.\nFor why ? It felt the living power thrive\nThe more it made everything, good and bad,\nIts own belonging, forged to its own affair,—\nThe living power that would do wonders someday.\nI don't know if you take me ?\nSollers : I do, fine ;\nI've felt the very thought go through my mind\nWhen I was at my wains; though 'twas a thing\nOf such a flight I could not read its colour.—"}, {"page_pdf": 26, "page_imprimee": "83", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.26", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1384, "texte": "Why was I like a man sworn to a thing\nWorking to have my wains in every curve,\nAy, every tenon, right and as they should be ?\nNot for myself, not even for those wains:\nBut to keep in me living at its best\nThe skill that must go forward and shape the world,\nHelping it on to make some masterpiece.\nMerrick : And never was there aught to come of it!\nThe world was always looking to use its life\nIn some great handsome way at last. And now—\nWe are just fooled. There never was any good\nIn the world going on or being at all.\nThe fine things life has plotted to do are worth\nA rotten toadstool kickt to flying bits.\nEnd of the World ? Ay, and the end of a joke.\nVine : Well, Huff's the man for this turn.\nMerrick : Ay, the good man !\nHe could but grunt when times were pleasant; now\nThere's misery enough to make him trumpet.\nAnd yet, by God, he shan't come blowing his horn\nOver my misery !\nWe are just fooled, did I say ?— We fooled ourselves,\nIyooking for worth in what was still to come;\nAnd now there's a stop to our innings. Well, that's fair :\nI've been a living man, and might have been\nNothing at all! I've had the world about me,\nAnd felt it as my own concern. What else\nShould Ibe crying for ? I've had my turn.\nThe world may be for the sake of naught at last,\nBut it has been for my sake : I've had that.\n[He sits again, and broods."}, {"page_pdf": 27, "page_imprimee": "84", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.27", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1337, "texte": "Sollers: I can't stay here. I must be where my sight\nMay silence with its business all my thinking,—\nThough it will be the star plunged down so close\nIt puffs its flaming vengeance in my face.\n[He goes.\nVine : I wish there were someone who had done me wrong,\nIyike Huff with his wife and Shale; I wish there were\nSomebody I would like to see go crazed\nWith staring fright. I'd have my pleasure then\nOf living on into the End of the World.\nBut there is no one at all for me, no one\nNow my poor wife is gone.\nMerrick : Why, what did she\nTo harm you ?\nVine: Didn't she marry me?—It's true\nShe made it come all right. She died at last.\nBesides, it would be wasting wishes on her,\nTo be in hopes of her weeping at this.\nShe'ld have her hands on her hips and her tongue jumping\nAs nimble as a stoat, delighting round\nThe way the world's to be terrible and tormented.—\nAy, but I'll have a thing to tell her now\nWhen she begins to ask the news! I'll say\n\" You've misst such a show as never was nor will be,\nA roaring great affair of death and ruin;\nAnd I was there—the world smasht to sparkles! \"\nO, I can see her vext at that!\n[MERRICK has been sunk in thought during this, but VINE\nseems to brighten at his notion, and speaks quite cheerfully\nto HUFF who now comes in, looking mopish, and sits\ndown."}, {"page_pdf": 28, "page_imprimee": "85", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.28", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1305, "texte": "Vine: We've all been envying you, Huff. You're well off,\nYou with your goodness and your enemies\nShowing you how to relish it with their terror.\nWhen do you mean the gibing is to start ?\nHuff: There's time enough.\nVine : O, do they still hold out ?\nIf they should be for spiting you to the last!\nYou Id best keep on at them : think out a list\nOf frantic things for them to do, when air\nIs scorching smother and the sin they did\nFrightens their hearts. You'll shout them into fear,\nI undertake, if you find breath enough.\nHuff: You have the breath. What's all your pester for ?\nYou leave me be.\nVine : Why, you're to do for me\nWhat I can't do myself.—And yet it's hard\nTo make out where Shale hurt you. What s the sum\nOf all he did to you ? Got you quit of marriage\nWithout the upset of a funeral.\nHuff: Why need you blurt your rambling mind at me ?\nLet me bide quiet in my thought awhile,\nAnd it's a little while we have for thought.\nMerrick : I know your thought! Paddling round and around,\nLike a squirrel working in a spinning cage\nWith his neck stretcht to have his chin poke up,\nAnd silly feet busy and always going;\nPaddling round the story of your good life,\nYour small good life, and how the decent men\nHave jeered at your wry antic.\nHuff: My good life!"}, {"page_pdf": 29, "page_imprimee": "86", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.29", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1380, "texte": "And what good has my goodness been to me ?\nYou show me that! Somebody show me that!\nA caterpillar munching a cabbage-heart,\nAlways drudging further and further from\nThe sounds and lights of the world, never abroad\nNor flying free in warmth and air sweet-smelling:\nA crawling caterpillar, eating his life\nIn a deaf dark—that's my gain of goodness !\nAnd it's too late to hatch out now !—\nI can but fancy what I might have been ;\nI scarce know how to sin !— But I believe\nA long while back I did come near to it.\nMerrick : Well done !— O but I should have guesst all this !\nHuff: I was in Droitwich ; and the sight of the place\nIs where they cook the brine : a long dark shed,\nHot as an oven, full of a grey steam\nAnd ruddy light that leaks out of the furnace ;\nAnd stirring the troughs, ladling the brine that boils\nAs thick as treacle, a double standing row,\nWomen—boldly talking in wicked jokes\nAll day long. I went to see 'em. It was\nA wonderful rousing sight. Not one of them\nWas really wearing clothes: half of a sack\nPinned in an apron was enough for most,\nAnd here and there might be a petticoat;\nBut nothing in the way of bodices.—\nO, they knew words to shame a carter's face !\nMerrick : This is the thought you would be quiet in !\nHuff: Where else can Ibe quiet ? Now there's an end\nOf daring, 'tis the one place my life has made"}, {"page_pdf": 30, "page_imprimee": "87", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.30", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1385, "texte": "Where I may try to dare in thought. I mind,\nWhen I stood in the midst of those bare women,\nAll at once, outburst with a rising buzz,\nA mob of flying thoughts was wild in me :\nThings I might do swarmed in my brain pell-mell,\nLike a heap of flies kickt into humming cloud.\nI beat them down ; and now I cannot tell\nFor certain what they were. I can call up\nNaught venturesome and darting like their style;\nVery tame braveries now!—O Shale's the man\nTo smile upon the End of the World; 'tis Shale\nHas lived the bold stiff fashion, and filled himself\nWith thinking pride in what a man may do.—\nI wish I had seen those women more than once !\nVine : Well, here's an upside down ! This is old Huff !\nWhat have you been in your heart all these years ?\nThe man you were or the new man you are ?\nHuff: Just a dead flesh !\nMerrick : Nay, Huff the good man at least\nWas something alive, though snarling like trapt vermin.\nBut this ? What's this for the figure of a man ?\nsTis a boy's smutty picture on a wall.\nHuff: I was alive, was I ? Like a blind bird\nThat flies and cannot see the flight it takes,\nFeeling it with mere rowing of its wings.\nBut Shale—he's had a stirring sense of what he is.\nShouting outside. Then SOLLERS walks in again, very\nquiet and steady. He stands in the middle, looking down\non the floor.\nVine : What do they holla for there ?"}, {"page_pdf": 31, "page_imprimee": "88", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.31", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1260, "texte": "Sollers : The earth.\nMerrick : The earth ?\nSollers : The earth's afire.\nHuff: The earth blazing already? [Shouts again.\nO, not so soon as this ?\nVine : What sort of a fire ?\nSollers : The earth has caught the heat of the star, you fool.\nMerrick : I know : there's come some dazzle in your eyes\nFrom facing to the star; a lamp would do it.\nHuff: It will be that. Your sight, being so strained,\nIs flashing of itself.\nSollers : Say what you like.\nThere's a red flare out of the land beyond\nLooking over the hills into our valley.\nThe thing's begun, 'tis certain. Go and see.\nVine : I won't see that. I will stay here.\nSollers : Ay, creep\nInto your oven. You'll be cooler there.—\nOmy God, we'll all be coals in an hour ! [Shouts again.\nHuff: And I have naught to stand in my heart upright,\nAnd vow it made my living time worth more\nThan if my time had been death in a grave !\nSeveral persons run in.\nThe Crowd. 1. The river's the place !\n2. The only safe place now!\n3. Best all charge down to the river!\n4. For there's a blaze,\nA travelling blaze comes racing along the earth.\nSollers : 'Tis true. The air's red-hot above the hills.\nThe Crowd : 1. Ay, but the burning now crests the hill-tops\nIn quiver of yellow flame."}, {"page_pdf": 32, "page_imprimee": "89", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.32", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1221, "texte": "2. And a great smoke\nWaving and tumbling upward.\n3. The river now !\n4. The only place we have, not to be roasted !\nMerrick : And what will make us water-rats or otters,\nTo keep our breath still living through a dive\nThat lasts until the earth's burnt out ? Or how\nWould that trick serve, when we stand up to gasp,\nAnd find the star waiting for our plunged heads\nTo knock them into pummy ?\nVine : Scarce more dazed\nI'ld be with that than now. I shall be bound,\nWhen I'm to give my wife the tale of it all,\nTo be devising : more of this to-do\nMy mind won't carry.\nHuff: O ashamed I am,\nAshamed!— It needn't have been downright feats,\nSuch as the braving men, the like of Shale,\nDo easily, and smile, keeping them up.\nIf I could look back to one manful hour\nOf romping in the face of all my goodness !—\nSHALE comes in, dragging Mrs. HUFF by the hand.\nShale : Huff ! Where's Huff ?—Huff, you must take her back !\nYou'll take her back ? She's yours : I give her up.\nMerrick : Belike here's something bold again.\nMrs. Huff {to SHALE) : Once more,\nListen.\nShale : I will not listen. There's no time\nFor aught but giving you back where you belong;—\nAnd that's with you, Huff. Take her."}, {"page_pdf": 33, "page_imprimee": "90", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.33", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1356, "texte": "Huff: Here is depth\nI cannot see to. Is it your last fling ? —\nThe dolt I am in these things !— What's this way\nYou've found of living wickedly to the end ?\nShale : Scorn as you please, but take her back, man, take her.\nHuff: But she's my wife ! Take her back now ? What for ?\nMrs. Huff: What for ? Have you not known of thieves that throw\nTheir robbery down, soon as they hear a step\nSounding behind them on the road, and run\nA long way off, and pull an honest face ?\nAy, see Shale's eyes practising baby-looks!\nHe never stole, not he !\nShale : Don't hear her talk.\nMrs. Huff: But he was a talker once ! Iyove was the thing ;\nAnd love, he swore, would make the wrong go right,\nAnd Huff was a kind of devil—and that's true\nHuff: What? I've been devilish and never knew?\nMrs. Huff: The devil in the world that hates all love.\nBut Shale said, he'd the love in him would hold\nIf the world's frame and the fate of men were crackt.\nShale : What I said !\nWhoever thought the world was going to crack ?\nMrs. Huff: And now he hears someone move behind him.—\nThey'll say, perhaps, \"You stole this ! \"—Down it goes,\nThrown to the dirty road—thrown to Huff!\nShale : Yes, to the owner.\nMrs. Huff: It was not such brave thieving.\nYou did not take me from my owner, Shale:\nThere's an old robber will do that some day,\nNot you."}, {"page_pdf": 34, "page_imprimee": "91", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.34", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1312, "texte": "Vine : Were you thinking of me then, missis ?\nMrs. Huff (still to SHALE) : You found me lost in the dirt: I\nwas with Huff.\nYou lifted me from there ; and there again,\nLike a frightened urchin, you're for throwing me.\nShale : Let it be that! I'm firm\nNot to have you about me, when the thing,\nWhatever it is, that's standing now behind\nThe burning of the world, comes out on us.\nHuff: The way men cheat! This windle-stalk was he\nWould hold a show of spirit for the world\nTo study while it ruined ! —Make what you please\nOf your short wrangle here, but leave me out.\nI have my thoughts—O far enough from this. [Turning away.\nShale (seizing him) : You shall not put me off. I tell you, Huff,\nYou are to take her back now.\nHuff: Take her back !\nAnd what has she to do with what I want ?\nShale : Isn't she yours ? I must be quit of her ;\nI'll not be in the risk of keeping her.\nShe's yours!\nHuff: And what's the good of her now to me ?\nWhat's the good of a woman whom I've married ?\nDuring this, WARP the molecatcher has come in.\nWarp : Shale and Huff at their old pother again !\nMerrick : The molecatcher !\nSollers : Warp, have you travelled far ?\nIs it through frenzy and ghastly crowds you've come ?\nVine : Have you got dreadful things to tell us, Warp ?\nWarp : Why, no."}, {"page_pdf": 35, "page_imprimee": "92", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.35", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1336, "texte": "But seemingly you'ld have had news for me,\nIf I'd come later. Is Huff to murder Shale,\nOr Shale for murdering Huff ? One way or 'tother,\n'Tis time 'twas settled surely.—Mrs. Huff,\nThey're neither of them worth you : here's your health.\n[Draws and drinks.\nHuff: Where have you been ? Are you not new from folk\nThat throng together in a pelting horror ?\nWarp : Do you think the whole land hearkens to the flurry\nOf an old dog biting at a young dog's throat ?\nMerrick : No, no ! Not their shrill yapping ; you've not heard\nThe world's near to be blasted ?\nWarp : No mutter of it.\nI am from walking the whole ground I trap,\nAnd there's no likeness of it, but the moles\nI've turned up dead and dried out of three counties.\nS oilers : Why, but the fire that's eating the whole'earth ;\nThe breath of it is scarlet in the sky !\nYou must have seen that ?\nWarp : But what's taken you ?\nYou are like boys that go to hunt for ghosts,\nAnd turn the scuttle of rats to a roused demon\nCrawling to shut the door of the barn they search.\nFire ? Yes, fire is a playing a pretty game\nYonder, and has its golden fun to itself,\nSeemingly.\nSollers : You don't know what 'tis that burns ?\nWarp : Call me a mole and not a molecatcher\nIf Ido not. It is a rick that burns ;\nAnd a strange thing I'll count it if the rick"}, {"page_pdf": 36, "page_imprimee": "93", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.36", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1194, "texte": "Be not old Huff's.\nSollers : That flare a fired stack ?\nHuff: Only one of my ricks alight ? O Glory !\nThere may be chance for me yet.\nMerrick : Best take the train\nTo Droitwich, Huff.\nVine (at the door) : It would be like a stack,\nBut for the star.\nSollers (to WARP): Yes, as you're so clever,\nYou can talk down maybe yon brandishing star !\nWarp : O, 'tis the star has flickt your brains ? Indeed,\nThe tail swings long enough to-night for that.\nWell, look your best at it; 'tis off again\nTo go its rounds, they tell me, from now on ;\nAnd the next time it swaggers in our sky,\nThe moles a long while will have tired themselves\nOf having their easy joke with me. [A pause.\nMerrick : You mean\nThe flight of the star is from us ?\nSollers : But the world,\nThe whole world reckons on it battering us!\nWarp : Who told you that ?\nSollers : A dowser.\nMerrick : Where's he gone ?\nWarp : A dowser ! say a tramping conjurer.\nYou'll believe aught, if you believe a dowser.\nSollers : I had it in me to be doubting him.\nMerrick ; The noise you made was like that! But I knew\nYou'ld laugh at me, so sure you were the world\nWould shiver like a bursting grindlestone :"}, {"page_pdf": 37, "page_imprimee": "94", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.37", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1189, "texte": "Else I'ld have said out loud, 'twas a fool's whimsy.\nVine : Where are you now ? What am I now to think ?\nYour minds run round in puzzles, like chased hares.\nI cannot sight them.\nMerrick : Think of going to bed.\nSollers : And dreaming prices for your pigs.\nMerrick : O Warp,\nYou should have seen Vine crying ! The moon, he said,\nThe silver moon ! Just like an onion 'twas\nTo stir the water in his eyes.\nSollers: He's left\nA puddle of his tears where he was droopt\nOver the table\nVine : There's to be no ruin ? —\nBut what's the word of a molecatcher, to crow\nSo ringing over a dowser's word ?\nWarp : I'll tell you.\nThese dowsers live on lies : my trade's the truth.\nI can read moles, and the way they've dug their journeys,\nWhere you Id not see a wrinkle.\nVine : And he knows\nThe buried water.\nWarp : There's always buried water,\nIf you prod deep enough. A dowser finds\nBecause the whole earth's floating, like a raft.\nWhat does he know ? A twitching in his thews •\nA dog asleep knows that much. What I know\nI've learnt, and if I'd learnt it wrong, I'ld starve.\nAnd if I'm right about the grubbing moles,\nWon't I be right for news of walking men ?"}, {"page_pdf": 38, "page_imprimee": "95", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.38", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1333, "texte": "Merrick : Of course you're right. Let's put the whole thing by,\nAnd have a pleasant drink.\nShale (to Mrs. HUFF) : You must be tired\nWith all this story. Shall we be off for home ?\nHuff: You brass ! You don't go now with her ! She's mine :\nYou gave her up.\nShale: And you made nothing of her.\n(to Mrs. HUFF) : Come on.\nMrs. Huff: Warp, will you do a thing for me ?\nWarp : A hundred things.\nMrs. Huff: Then slap me these cur-dogs.\nWarp : I will. Where will I slap them, and which first ?\nMrs. Huff: Maybe 'twill do if you but laugh at them.\nWarp : I'll try for that; but they are not good jokes ;\nThough there's a kind of monkey-look about them.\nMrs. Huff: They thinking I'ld be near one or the other\nAfter this night! Will Ibe made no more\nThan clay that children puddle to their minds,\nMoulding it what they fancy ? —Shale was brave:\nHe made a bogy and defied it, till\nHe frightened of his work and ran away.\nBut Huff!— Huff was for modelling wickedly :\nHuff: Who told you that ?\nMrs. Huff: I need no one's telling.\nI was your wife once. Don't I know your goodness ?\nA stupid heart gone sour with jealousy,\nTo feel its blood too dull and thick for sinning.—\nYes, Huff would figure a wicked thought, but had\nNo notion how, and flung the clay aside.—\nO they were gaudy colours both ! But now"}, {"page_pdf": 39, "page_imprimee": "96", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.39", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1095, "texte": "Fear has bleacht their swagger and left them blank,\nFear of a loon that cried, End of the World !\nHuff: Shale, do you know what we're to do ?\nShale : I'ld like\nTo have the handling of that dowser-man.\nHuff: Just that, my lad, just that!\nWarp : And your fired rick ?\nHuff: Let it be blazes ! Quick, Shale, after him !\nI'll tramp the night out, but I'll take the rogue.\nShale {to the others) : You wait, and see us haul him by the ears,\nAnd swim the blatherer in Huff's farm-yard pond.\nAs HUFF and SHALE go out, they see the comet before them.\nHuff: The devil's own star is that!\nShale : And floats as calm\nAs a pike basking.\nHuff: There shouldn't be such stars !\nShale : Neither such dowsers, and we'll learn him that.\n[They go off together.\nSollers : Why, the star's dwindling now, surely !\nMerrick : O, small\nAnd dull now to the glowing size it was.\nVine : But is it certain there'll be nothing smasht ?\nNot even a house knockt roaring down in crumbles ?\nAnd I did think, I'ld open my wife's mouth\nWith envy of the dreadful things I'd seen !\nCURTAIN."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaav-1914-04-01-c003", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaav_1914-04_01#c003", "volume": "bmtnaav_1914-04_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "97", "page_fin": "99", "image_debut": 40, "image_fin": 42, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.2.3", "titre_corps": "LOVE’S HOUSE", "titre_sommaire": "LOVE’S HOUSE", "signature_source": "John Drinkwater", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 40, "page_imprimee": "97", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.40", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1055, "texte": "LOVE’S HOUSE\nJohn Drinkwater\nI.\nI know not how these men or those may take\nTheir first glad measure of love's character,\nOr whether one should let the summer make\nLove's festival, and one the falling year.\nI only know that in my prime of days\nWhen my young branches came to blossoming,\nYou were the sign that loosed my lips in praise,\nYou were the zeal that governed all my spring.\nII.\nIn prudent counsel many gathered near,\nForewarning us of deft and secret snares\nThat are love's use. We heard them as we hear\nThe ticking of a clock upon the stairs.\nThe troops of reason, careful to persuade,\nBlackened love's name, but love was more than these,\nFor we had wills to venture unafraid\nThe trouble of unnavigable seas.\nIII.\nTheir word was but a barren seed that lies\nUndrawn of the sun's health and undesired,\nBecause the habit of their hearts was wise,\nBecause the wisdom of their tongues was tired.\nFor in the smother of contentious pride,\nAnd in the fear of each tumultuous mood,\nOur love has kept serenely fortified\nAnd unusurped one stedfast solitude."}, {"page_pdf": 41, "page_imprimee": "98", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.41", "debut_caractere": 30, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1017, "texte": "IV.\nDark words, and hasty humours of the blood\nHave come to us and made no longer stay\nThan footprints of a bird upon the mud\nThat in an hour the tide will take away.\nBut not March weather over ploughlands blown,\nNor cresses green upon their gravel bed,\nAre beautiful with the clean rigour grown\nOf quiet thought our love has piloted.\nV.\nI sit before the hearths of many men,\nWhen speech goes gladly, eager to withhold\nNo word at all, yet when I pass again\nThe last of words is captive and untold.\nWe talk together in love's house, and there\nNo thought but seeks what counsel you may give,\nAnd every secret trouble from its lair\nComes to your hand, no longer fugitive.\nVI.\nI woo the world, with burning will to be\nDelighted in all fortune it may find,\nAnd still the strident dogs of jealousy\nGo mocking down the tunnels of my mind.\nOnly for you my contemplation goes\nClean as a god's, undarkened of pretence,\nMost happy when your garner overflows,\nAchieving in your prosperous diligence."}, {"page_pdf": 42, "page_imprimee": "99", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.42", "debut_caractere": 31, "fin_caractere_exclue": 700, "texte": "VII.\nWhen from the dusty corners of my brain\nComes limping some ungainly word or deed,\nI know not if my dearest friend's disdain\nBe durable or brief, spent husk or seed.\nBut your rebuke and that poor fault of mine\nGo straitly outcast, and we close the door,\nAnd I, no promise asking and no sign,\nStand blameless in love's presence as before.\nVIII.\nA beggar in the ditch, I stand and call\nMy questions out upon the queer parade\nOf folk that hurry by, and one and all\nGo down the road with never answer made\nIdo not question love. lam a lord\nHigh at love's table, and the vigilant king,\nUnquestioned, from the hubbub at the board\nLeans down to me and tells me everything."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaav-1914-04-01-c004", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaav_1914-04_01#c004", "volume": "bmtnaav_1914-04_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "100", "page_fin": "100", "image_debut": 43, "image_fin": 43, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.2.4", "titre_corps": "HEAVEN", "titre_sommaire": "HEAVEN", "signature_source": "Rupert Brooke", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 43, "page_imprimee": "100", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.43", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1171, "texte": "HEAVEN\nRupert Brooke\nFish (fly-replete, in depth of June,\nDawdling away their wat'ry noon)\nPonder deep wisdom, dark or clear,\nEach secret fishy hope or fear.\nFish say, they have their Stream and Pond,\nBut is there anything Beyond ?\nThis life cannot be All, they swear,\nFor how unpleasant, if it were !\nOne may not doubt that, somehow, Good\nShall come of Water and of Mud;\nAnd, sure, the reverent eye must see\nA Purpose in Liquidity.\nWe darkly know, by Faith we cry,\nThe future is not Wholly Dry.\nMud unto mud !—Death eddies near—\nNot here the appointed End, not here !\nBut somewhere, beyond Space and Time,\nIs wetter water, slimier slime !\nAnd there (they trust) there swimmeth One\nWho swam ere rivers were begun,\nImmense, of fishy form and mind,\nSquamous, omnipotent, and kind;\nAnd under that Almighty Fin,\nThe littlest fish may enter in.\nOh ! never fly conceals a hook,\nFish say, in the Eternal Brook,\nBut more than mundane weeds are there,\nAnd mud, celestially fair;\nFat caterpillars drift around,\nAnd Paradisal grubs are found ;\nUnfading moths, immortal flies,\nAnd the worm that never dies.\nAnd in that Heaven of all their wish,\nThere shall be no more land, say fish."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaav-1914-04-01-c005", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaav_1914-04_01#c005", "volume": "bmtnaav_1914-04_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "101", "page_fin": "101", "image_debut": 44, "image_fin": 44, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.2.5", "titre_corps": "A CATCH FOR SINGING", "titre_sommaire": "A CATCH FOR SINGING", "signature_source": "Wilfrid Wilson Gibson", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 44, "page_imprimee": "101", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.44", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 887, "texte": "A CATCH FOR SINGING\nWilfrid Wilson Gibson\nSaid the Old Young Man to the Young Old Man :\n\" Alack, and well-a-day ! \"\nSaid the Young Old Man to the Old Young Man :\n\" The cherry-tree's in flourish ! \"\nSaid the Old Young Man to the Young Old Man :\n\" The world is growing grey.\"\nSaid the Young Old Man to the Old Young Man :\n\" The cherry-tree's in flourish !\nSaid the Old Young Man to the Young Old Man :\n\" Both flower and fruit decay.\"\nSaid the Young Old Man to the Old Young Man:\n\" The cherry-tree's in flourish !\nSaid the Old Young Man to the Young Old Man :\n\" Alack, and well-a-day !\nThe world is growing grey;\nAnd flower and fruit decay.\nBeware Old Man, beware Old Man !\nFor the end of life is nearing;\nAnd the grave yawns by the way. . .\"\nSaid the Young Old Man to the Old Young Man r\n\"I'm a trifle hard of hearing;\nAnd can't catch a word you say. . .\nBut the cherry-tree's in flourish!"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaav-1914-04-01-c006", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaav_1914-04_01#c006", "volume": "bmtnaav_1914-04_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "102", "page_fin": "102", "image_debut": 45, "image_fin": 45, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.2.6", "titre_corps": "THE TRAM", "titre_sommaire": "THE TRAM", "signature_source": "Wilfrid Wilson Gibson", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 45, "page_imprimee": "102", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.45", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1027, "texte": "THE TRAM\nWilfrid Wilson Gibson\nHumming and creaking, the car down the street\nIvumbered and lurched through thunderous gloam;\nBearing us, spent and dumb with the heat,\nFrom office and counter and factory home:\nSallow-faced clerks, genteel in black;\nGirls from the laundries, draggled and dank;\nRuddy-faced labourers, slouching slack;\nA broken actor, grizzled and lank;\nA mother with querulous babe on her lap ;\nA schoolboy whistling under his breath;\nAn old man crouched in a dreamless nap ;\nA widow with eyes on the eyes of death;\nA priest; a sailor with deepsea gaze;\nA soldier in scarlet, with waxed moustache;\nA drunken trollop in velvet and lace;\nAll silent in that tense dusk . . . when a flash\nOf lightning shivered the sultry gloom :\nWith shattering brattle the whole sky fell\nAbout us; and rapt to a dazzling doom\nWe glided on in a timeless spell,\nUnscathed through deluge and flying fire,\nIn a magical chariot of streaming glass,\nCut off from our kind and the world's desire,\nMade one by the awe that had come to pass."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaav-1914-04-01-c007", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaav_1914-04_01#c007", "volume": "bmtnaav_1914-04_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "103", "page_fin": "103", "image_debut": 46, "image_fin": 46, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.2.7", "titre_corps": "THE GREETING", "titre_sommaire": "THE GREETING", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 46, "page_imprimee": "103", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.46", "debut_caractere": 23, "fin_caractere_exclue": 386, "texte": "THE GREETING\n\" What fettle, mate ? \" to me he said\nAs he went by\nWith lifted head\nAnd laughing eye,\nWhere, black against the dawning red,\nThe pit-heaps cut the sky :\n\" What fettle, mate ?\n\" What fettle, mate ? \" to him I said,\nAs he went by\nWith shrouded head\nAnd darkened eye,\nBorne homeward by his marrows, dead\nBeneath the noonday sky :\n\" What fettle, mate ? \""}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaav-1914-04-01-c008", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaav_1914-04_01#c008", "volume": "bmtnaav_1914-04_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "104", "page_fin": "104", "image_debut": 47, "image_fin": 47, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.2.8", "titre_corps": "ON HAMPSTEAD HEATH", "titre_sommaire": "ON HAMPSTEAD HEATH", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 47, "page_imprimee": "104", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.47", "debut_caractere": 23, "fin_caractere_exclue": 426, "texte": "ON HAMPSTEAD HEATH\nAgainst the green flame of the hawthorn-tree\nHis scarlet tunic burns;\nAnd livelier than the green sap's mantling glee\nThe Spring fire tingles through him headily\nAs quivering he turns\nAnd stammers out the old amazing tale\nOf youth and April weather:\nWhile she, with half-breathed jests that, sobbing, fail,\nSits, tight-lipped, quaking, eager-eyed and pale,\nBeneath her purple feather."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaav-1914-04-01-c009", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaav_1914-04_01#c009", "volume": "bmtnaav_1914-04_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "105", "page_fin": "105", "image_debut": 48, "image_fin": 48, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.2.9", "titre_corps": "THE ICE", "titre_sommaire": "THE ICE", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 48, "page_imprimee": "105", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.48", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 499, "texte": "THE ICE\nHer day out from the workhouse-ward, she stands,\nA grey-haired woman, decent and precise,\nWith prim black bonnet and neat paisley shawl,\nAmong the other children by the stall,\n9\nAnd with grave relish eats a penny ice.\nTo wizened toothless gums, with quaking hands\nShe holds it, shuddering with delicious cold:\nNor heeds the jeering laughter of young men,\nThe happiest, in her innocence, of all:\nFor, while their insolent youth must soon grow old,\nShe, who's been old, is now a child again.\nD"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaav-1914-04-01-c010", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaav_1914-04_01#c010", "volume": "bmtnaav_1914-04_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "106", "page_fin": "108", "image_debut": 49, "image_fin": 51, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.2.10", "titre_corps": "THE GORSE", "titre_sommaire": "THE GORSE", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 49, "page_imprimee": "106", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.49", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1314, "texte": "THE GORSE\nIn dream, again within the clean, cold hell\nOf glazed and aching silence he was trapped;\nAnd, closing in, the blank walls of his cell\nCrushed stifling on him . . . when the bracken snapped,\nCaught in his clutching fingers: and he lay\nAwake upon his back among the fern,\nWith free eyes travelling the wide blue day\nUnhindered, unremembering; while a burn\nTinkled and gurgled somewhere out of sight,\nUnheard of him, till, suddenly aware\nOf its cold music, shivering in the light,\nHe raised himself ; and with far-ranging stare\nLooked all about him : and, with dazed eyes wide\nSaw, still as in a numb, unreal dream,\nBlack figures scouring a far hill-side,\nWith now and then a sunlit rifle's gleam ;\nAnd knew the hunt was hot upon his track :\nYet hardly seemed to mind, somehow, just then . .\nBut kept on wondering why they looked so black\nOn that hot hillside, all those little men\nWho scurried round like beetles—twelve, all told . . .\nHe counted them twice over; and began\nA third time reckoning them, but could not hold\nHis starved wits to the business, while they ran\nSo brokenly, and always stuck at \" five .\nAnd \" One, two, three, four, five \" a dozen times\nHe muttered . . . \" Can you catch a fish alive ? \"\nSang mocking echoes of old nursery-rhymes\nThrough the strained, tingling hollow of his head."}, {"page_pdf": 50, "page_imprimee": "107", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.50", "debut_caractere": 33, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1230, "texte": "And now, almost remembering, he was stirred\nTo pity them : and wondered if they'd fed\nSince he had, or if, ever since they'd heard\nTwo nights ago the sudden signal-gun\nThat raised alarm of his escape, they, too,\nHad fasted in the wilderness, and run\nWith nothing but the thirsty wind to chew,\nAnd nothing in their bellies but a fill\nOf cold peat water, till their heads were light .\nThe crackling of a rifle on the hill\nRang in his ears : and stung to headlong flight,\nHe started to his feet; and through the brake\nHe \\plunged in panic, heedless of the sunf\nThat burned his cropped head to a red-hot ache\nStill racked with crackling echoes of the gun.\nThen suddenly the sun-enkindled fire\nOf gorse upon the moor-top caught his eye;\nAnd that gold glow held all his heart's desire,\nAs, like a witless flame-bewildered fly,\nHe blundered towards the league-wide yellow\nAnd tumbled headlong on the spikes of bloom;\nAnd rising, bruised and bleeding and adaze,\nStruggled through clutching spines: the dense, sweet fume\nOf nutty, acrid scent like poison stealing\nThrough his hot blood : the bristling yellow glare\nSpiking his eyes with fire, till he went reeling,\nStifling and blinded, on—and did not care"}, {"page_pdf": 51, "page_imprimee": "108", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.51", "debut_caractere": 33, "fin_caractere_exclue": 392, "texte": "Though he were taken—wandering round and round,\n\" Jerusalem the Golden \" quavering shrill,\nChanging his tune to \" Tommy Tiddler's Ground \" :\nTill, just a lost child on that dazzling hill,\nBewildered in a glittering golden maze\nOf stinging scented fire, he dropped, quite done,\nA shrivelling wisp within a world ablaze\nBeneath a blinding sky, one blaze of sun."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaav-1914-04-01-c011", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaav_1914-04_01#c011", "volume": "bmtnaav_1914-04_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[109]", "page_fin": "[109]", "image_debut": 52, "image_fin": 52, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.2.11", "titre_corps": "[Publicité]", "titre_sommaire": "[Publicité]", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 52, "page_imprimee": "[109]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.52", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 549, "texte": "Books by the same\nBy LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE\nInterludes and Poems ... 1908.\nMary and the Bramble ... 1910.\nThe Sale of St. Thomas ... 1911.\nEmblems of Love - ... 1912.\nDeborah 1913.\nBy RUPERT BROOKE\nPoems 1911.\nBy JOHN DRINKWATER\nLyrical and Other Poems ... 1908.\nPoems of Men and Hours ... 1911.\nCophetua - - - - ... 1911.\nPoems of Love and Earth ... 1912.\nCromwell and Other Poems 1913.\nBy WILFRID WILSON GIBSON\nwriters.\n(out of print)\n(out of print)\nThe Stonefolds\nOn the Threshold -\nAkra the Slave\nDaily Bread -\nFires\n1907.\n1907.\n1910.\n1910.\n1912."}]}], "pages_ocr_originales": [{"page_pdf": 1, "page_imprimee": "couv. 1", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.1", "texte": "New Numbers\n: . ; ?'. \" > < . \" \" v - -• -> • :*• ~,-o r \" - -**- V.v '.vi. v2** ■ - X v • *v~- • - \\\ni\n■ ■\nVolume 1.\nNumber 2.\nApril, 1914."}, {"page_pdf": 2, "page_imprimee": "[59]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.2", "texte": "NEW NUMBERS"}, {"page_pdf": 3, "page_imprimee": "[60]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.3", "texte": "New Numbers\nPUBLISHED AT\nRYTON, DYMOCK, GLOUCESTER.\n\nLascelles Abercrombie\nJohn Drink water\nRupert Brooke\nWilfrid Wilson Gibson"}, {"page_pdf": 4, "page_imprimee": "61", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.4", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD\nLascelles Abercrombie\n(To E.M.)\nPERSONS.\nHUFF, the Farmer. SHALE, the Labourer.\nSOLLERS, the Wainwright. A DOWSER.\nMERRICK, the Smith. Mrs. HUFF.\nVINE, the Publican. WARP, the Molecatcher.\nMen and Women of the Village.\nACT I.\nScene ; A Public House kitchen. HUFF the Farmer and SOLLERS\nthe Wainwright talking ; another man, a stranger, sitting silent.\nHuff: Ay, you may think we're well off—\nSoilers : Now for croaks !\nOld toad ! who's trodden on you now ?—Go on ;\nBut if you can, croak us a new tune.\nHuff: Ay,\nYou think you're well off—and don't grab my words\nBefore they're spoken—but some folks, I've heard,\nPity us, living quiet in the valley.\nSoilers : Well, I suppose 'tis their affair.\nHuff: Is it ?\nBut what I mean to say,—if they think small\nOf us that live in the valley, mayn't it show\nThat we aren't all so happy as we think ?\nMERRICK the Smith comes in.\nMerrick : Quick, cider ! I believe I've swallowed a coal.\nSollers : Good evening. True, the heat's a wonder to-night.\n[Smith draws himself cider."}, {"page_pdf": 5, "page_imprimee": "62", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.5", "texte": "• THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nHuff: Haven't you brought your flute ? We've all got room\nFor music in our minds to-night, I'll swear.\nWorking all day in the sun do seem to push\nThe thought out of your brain.\nSollers : O, 'tis the sun\nHas trodden on you ? That's what makes you croak ?\nAy, whistle him somewhat: put a tune in his brain ;\nHe'll else croak us out of pleasure with drinking.\nMerrick : 'Tis quenching, I believe.—A tune ? Too hot.\nYou want a fiddler.\nHuff: Nay, I want your flute.\nI like a piping sound, not scraping o' guts.\nMerrick : This is no weather for a man to play\nFlutes or music at all that asks him spend\nHis breath and spittle : you want both yourself\nThese oven days. Wait till a fiddler comes.\nHuff: Who ever comes down here ?\nSollers : There's someone come.\n[Pointing with his pipe to the stranger.\nMerrick : Good evening, mister. Are you a man for tunes ?\nStranger : And if I was, I'd give you none to-night.\nMerrick : Well, no offence : there's no offence, I hope,\nIn taking a dummy for a tuneful man.\nIs it for can't or won't you are ?\nStranger : You wouldn't, if you carried in your mind\nWhat I've been carrying all day.\nSollers : What's that ?\nStranger : You wait; you'll know about it soon ; O yes,\nSoon enough it will find you out and rouse you.\nHuff: Now ain't that just the way we go down here ?"}, {"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "63", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.6", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nHere in the valley we're like dogs in a yard,\nChained to our kennels and wall'd in all round,\nAnd not a sound of the world jumps over our hills.\nAnd when there conies a passenger among us,\nOne who has heard what's stirring out beyond,\n'Tis a grutchy mumchance fellow in the dismals !\nStranger : News, is it, you want ? I could give you news !—\nI wonder, did you ever hate to feel\nThe earth so fine and splendid ?\nHuff: O, you're one\nHas stood in the brunt of the world's wickedness,\nIyike me ? But listen, and I'll give you a tale\nOf wicked things done in this little valley,\nDone against me, will surely make you think\nThe Devil here fetcht up his masterpiece.\nSoilers : Ah, but it's hot enough without you talking\nYour old hell fire about that pair of sinners.\nIyeave them alone and drink.\nHuff: I'll smell them grilling\nOne of these days.\nMerrick : But there'll be nought to drink\nWhen that begins! Best keep your skin full now.\nStranger : What do I care for wickedness ? Let those\nWho've played with dirt, and thought the game was bold,\nMake much of it while they can : there's a big thing\nComing down to us, ay, well on it's road,\nWill make their ploys seem mighty piddling sport.\nHuff: This is a fool; or else it's what I think,—\nThe world now breeds such crowd that they've no room\nFor well grown sins : they hatch 'em small as flies."}, {"page_pdf": 7, "page_imprimee": "64", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.7", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nBut you stay here, out of the world awhile,\nHere where a man's mind, and a woman's mind,\nCan fling out large in wickedness: you'll see\nSomething monstrous here, something dreadful.\nStranger: I've seen enough of that. Though it was only\nFancying made me see it, it was enough:\nI've seen the folk of the world yelling aghast,\nScurrying to hide themselves. I want nought else\nMonstrous and dreadful.—\nMerrick : What had roused 'em so ?\nSome house afire ?\nHuff: A huzzy flogged to death\nFor her hard-faced adultery ?\nStranger (too intent to hear them) : Oto think of it!\nTalk, do, chatter some nonsense, else I'll think:\nAnd then I'm feeling like a grub that crawls\nAll abroad in a dusty road; and high\nAbove me, and shaking the ground beneath me, come\nWheels of a thundering wain, right where I'm plodding.\nSollers : Queer thinking, that.\nStranger : And here's a queerer thing.\nI have a sort of lust in me, pushing me still\nInto that terrible way of thinking, like\nBlack men in India lie them down and long\nTo feel their holy wagon crack their spines.\nMerrick : Do you mean beetles ? I've driven over scores,\nThey sprawling on their backs, or standing mazed.\nI never knew they liked it.\nSollers : He means frogs.\nI know what's in his mind. When I was young"}, {"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "65", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.8", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nMy mother would catch us frogs and set them down,\nL,apt in a screw of paper, in the ruts,\nAnd carts going by would quash 'em ; and I'ld laugh,\nAnd yet be thinking, \" Suppose it was myself\nTwisted stiff in huge paper, and wheels\nBig as the wall of a barn treading me flat! \"\nHuff: I know what's in his mind : just madness it is.\nHe's lookt too hard at his fellows in the world;\nSight of their monstrous hearts, like devils in cages,\nHas jolted all the gearing of his wits.\nIt needs a tough brain, ay, a brain like mine,\nTo pore on ugly sin and not go mad.\nStranger : Madness ! You're not far out.—I came up here\nTo be alone and quiet in my thoughts,\nAlone in my own dreadful mind. The path,\nOf red sand trodden hard, went up between\nHigh hedges overgrown of hawthorn blowing\nWhite as clouds; ay it seemed burrowed through\nA white sweet-smelling cloud,—I walking there\nSmall as a hare that runs its tunnelled drove\nThro' the close heather. And beside my feet\nBlue greygles drifted gleaming over the grass;\nAnd up I climbed to sunlight green in birches,\nAnd the path turned to daisies among grass\nWith bonfires of the broom beside, like flame\nOf burning straw : and I lookt into your valley.\nI could scarce look.\nAnger was smarting in my eyes like grit.\nO the fine earth and fine all for nothing !\nMazed I walkt, seeing and smelling and hearing:"}, {"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "66", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.9", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nThe meadow lands all shining fearfully gold,—\nCruel as fire the sight of them toucht my mind;\nBreathing was all a honey taste of clover\nAnd bean flowers : I would have rather had it\nCarrion, or the stink of smouldering brimstone.\nAnd larks aloft, the happy piping fools,\nAnd squealing swifts that slid on hissing wings,\nAnd yellowhammers playing spry in hedges:\nI never noted them before ; but now—\nYes, I was mad, and crying mad, to see\nThe earth so fine, fine all for nothing !\nSoilers : {spits) : Pst! yellow hammers ! He talks gentry talk.\nThat's worse than being mad.\nStranger : I tell you, you'll be feeling them to-morn\nAnd hating them to be so wonderful.\nMerrick : Let's have some sense. Where do you live ?\nStranger: Nowhere .\nI'm always travelling.\nHuff: Why, what's you trade ?\nStranger : A dowser.\nHuff: You're the man for me!\nStranger : Not I.\nHuff: Ho, this is better than a fiddler now !\nOne of those fellows who have nerves so clever\nThat they can feel the waters of underground\nTingling in their fingers ?\nYou find me a spring in my high grazing-field,\n111 give you what I save in trundling water.\nStranger : I find you water now !—No, but 111 find you\nFire and fear and unbelievable death."}, {"page_pdf": 10, "page_imprimee": "67", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.10", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nVINE the Publican comes in.\nVine : Are ye all served ? Ay, seems so ; what's your score ?\nMerrick : Two ciders.\nHuff: Three.\nSollers : And two for me.\nVine (to Dowser) : And you ?\nDowser : Naught. I was waiting on you.\nVine : Will you drink ?\nDowser : Ay ! Drink ! what else is left for a man to do\nWho knows what I know ?\nVine : Good. What is't you know ?\nYou tell it out and set my trade a-buzzing.\nSollers : He's queer. Give him his mug and ease his tongue.\nVine : I had to swill the pigs : else I'd been here ;\nBut we've the old fashion in this house ; you draw,\nI keep the score. Well, what's the worry on you ?\nSollers : O he's in love.\nDowser : You fleering grinning louts,\nI'll give it you now ; now have it in your faces !\nSollers : Crimini, he's going to fight!\nDowser : You try and fight with the thing that's on my side!\nMerrick : A ranter !\nHuff: A boozy one then.\nDowser : Open yon door ;\n'Tis dark enough by now. Open it, you.\nVine : Hold on. Have you got something fierce outside ?\nMerrick : A Russian bear ?\nSollers : Dowsers can play strange games.\nHuff: No tricks !\nDowser : This is a trick to rouse the world.\n[He opens the door."}, {"page_pdf": 11, "page_imprimee": "68", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.11", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nIvook out! Between the elms ! There's my fierce thing.\nMerrick : He means the star with the tail like a feather of fire.\nSoilers : Comet, it's called.\nHuff: Do you mean the comet, mister ?\nDowser : What do you think of it ?\nHuff: Pretty enough.\nBut I saw a man loose off a rocket once;\nIt made more stir and flare of itself ; though yon\nDoes better at steady burning.\nDowser : Stir and flare !\nYou'll soon forget your rocket.\nMerrick : Tell you what\nI thought last night, now, going home. Says I,\n'Tis just the look of a tadpole : if I saw\nA tadpole silver as a dace that swam\nUpside-down towards me through black water,\nlld see the plain spit of that star and his tail.\nSoilers : And how does your thought go ?\nDowser : It's what I know!—\nA tadpole and a rocket!—My dear God,\nAnd I can still laugh out!—What do you think\nYour tadpole's made of ? What lets your rocket fling\nThose streaming sparks across the half of night,\nSplashing the burning spray of its haste among\nThe quiet business of the other stars ?\nAy, that's a fiery jet it leaves behind\nIn such enormous drift! What sort of fire\nIs spouted so, spouted and never quenching ?—\nThere is no name for that star's fire : it is\nThe fire that was before the world was made,"}, {"page_pdf": 12, "page_imprimee": "69", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.12", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nThe fire that all the things we live among\nRemember being; and whitest fire we know\nIs its poor copy in their dreaming trance!\nHuff: That would be hell fire.\nDowser : Ay, if you like, hell fire,\nHell fire flying through the night! 'Twould be\nA thing to blink about, a blast of it\nSwept in your face, eh ? and a thing to set\nThe whole stuff of the earth smoking rarely ?\nWhich of you said \" the heat's a wonder to-night \" ?\nYou have not done with marvelling. There'll come\nA night when all your clothes are a pickle of sweat,\nAnd, for all that, the sweat on your salty skin\nShall dry and crack, in the breathing of a wind\nThat's like a draught come through an open'd furnace.\nThe leafage of the trees shall brown and faint,\nAll sappy growth turning to brittle rubbish\nAs the near heat of the star strokes the green earth;\nAnd time shall brush the fields as visibly\nAs a rough hand brushes against the nap\nOf gleaming cloth—killing the season's colour,\nEach hour charged with the wasting of a year;\nAnd sailors panting on their warping decks\nWill watch the sea steam like broth about them.\nYou'll know what I know then!—That towering star\nHangs like a fiery buzzard in the night\nIntent over our earth—-Ay, now his journey\nPoints, straight as a plummet's drop, down to us!\nHuff: Why, that's the end of the world!\nDowser : You've said it now."}, {"page_pdf": 13, "page_imprimee": "70", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.13", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nSollers : What, soon ? In a day or two ?\nMerrick : You can't mean that!\nVine : End of the World ! Well now, I never thought\nTo hear the news of that. If you've the truth\nIn what you say, likely this is an evening\nThat we'll be talking over often and often.\n\" How was it, Sollers ?\" I'll say; \"or you, Merrick,\nDo you mind clearly how he lookt ? \"—And then—\n\" 'End of the world !' he said, and drank—like that,\nSolemn ! \"—And right he was : he had it all\nAs sure as I have when my sow's to farrow.\nDowser: Are you making a joke of me ? Keep your mind\nFor tippling while you can.\nVine : Was that a joke ?\nI'm always bad at seeing 'em, even my own.\nDowser : A fool's! 'Twill cheer you when the earth blows up\nLike as it were all gunpowder.\nVine: You mean\nThe star will butt his burning head against us ?\n'Twill knock the world to flinders, I suppose ?\nDowser : Ay, or with that wild monstrous tail of his\nSmash down upon the air, and make it bounce\nLike water under the flukes of a harpooned whale,\nAnd thrash it to a poisonous fire; and we\nAnd all the life of the world drowned in blazing!\nVine : 'Twill be a handsome sight. If my old wife\nWere with me now! This would have suited her.\n\" I do like things to happen ! \" she would say ;\nNever shindy enough for her; and now\nShe's gone, and can't be seeing this!"}, {"page_pdf": 14, "page_imprimee": "71", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.14", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nDowser : You poor fool.\nHow will it be a sight to you, when your eyes\nAre scorcht to little cinders in your head ?\nVine : Whether or no, there must be folks outside\nWilling to know of this. I'll scatter your news.\n[He goes.\n[A short pause : then SOLLERS breaks out..\nSollers : No, no ; it wouldn't do for me at all;\nNor for you neither, Merrick ? End of the World ?\nBogy ! A parson's tale or a bairn's !\nMerrick : That's it.\nYour trade's a gift, easy as playing tunes.\nBut Sollers here and I, we've had to drill\nSinew and muscle into their hard lesson,\nUntil they work in timber and glowing iron\nAs kindly as I pick up my pint: your work\nGrows in your nature, like plain speech in a child,\nBut we have learnt to think in a foreign tongue;\nAnd something must come out of all our skill!\nWe shan't go sliding down as glib as you\nInto notions of the End of the World.\nSollers : Give me a tree, you may say, and give me steel,.\nAnd I'll put forth my shapely mind ; I'll make,\nOut of my head like telling a well-known tale,\nA wain that goes as comely on the roads\nAs a ship sailing, the lines of it true as gospel.\nHave I learnt that all for nothing ?—O no !\nEnd of the World ? It wouldn't do at all.\nNo more making of wains, after I've spent\nMy time in getting the right skill in my hands ?"}, {"page_pdf": 15, "page_imprimee": "72", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.15", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nDowser : Ay, you begin to feel it now, I think ;\nBut you complain like boys for a game spoilt:\nShaping your carts, forging your iron ! But Iyife,\nL,ife, the mother who lets her children play\nSo seriously busy, trade and craft,—\nIvife with her skill of a million year's perfection\nTo make her heart's delighted glorying\nOf sunlight, and of clouds about the moon,\nSpring lighting her daffodils, and corn\nRipening gold to ruddy, and giant seas,\nAnd mountains sitting in their purple clothes—\n0 life I am thinking of, life the wonder,\nAll blotcht out by a brutal thrust of fire\nIvike a midge that a clumsy thumb squashes and smears.\nHuff: Let me but see the show beginning, though !\nYou'ld mind me then ! O I would like you all\nTo watch how I should figure, when the star\nBrandishes over the whole air its flame\nOf thundering fire ; and naught but yellow rubbish\nParcht on the perishing ground, and there are tongues\nChapt with thirst, glad to lap stinking ponds,\nAnd pale glaring faces spying about\nOn the earth withering, terror the only speech !\nIvook for me then, and see me stand alone\nEasy and pleasant in the midst of it all.\nDid you not make your merry scoff of me ?\nWas it your talk, that when yon shameless pair\nThrew their wantoning in my face like dirt,\n1 had no heart against them but to grumble ?\nYou would be saying that, I know ! But now,"}, {"page_pdf": 16, "page_imprimee": "73", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.16", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nNow I believe it's time for you to see\nMy patient heart at last taking its wages.\nSollers : Pull up, man ! Screw the brake on your running tongue,\nElse it will rattle you down the tumbling way\nThis fellow's gone.\nMerrick : And one man's enough\nWith brain quagged axledeep in crazy mire.\nWe won't have you beside him in his puddles,\nAnd calling out with him on the End of the World\nTo heave you out with a vengeance.\nHuff: What you want!\nHave I not borne enough to make me know\nI must be righted sometime ? —And what else\nWould break the hardy sin in them, which lets\nTheir souls parade so daring and so tall\nUnder God's hate and mine ? What else could pay\nFor all my wrong but a blow of blazing anger\nStriking down to shiver the earth, and change\nTheir strutting wickedness to horror and crying ?\nMerrick : Be quiet, Huff! If you mean to believe\nThis dowser's stuff, and join him in his bedlam,\nBy God, you'll have to reckon with my fist.\nSHALE comes in. HUFF glares at him speechless, but with\nwrath evidently working.\nShale : Where's the joker ? You, is it ? Here's hot news\nYou've brought us; all the valley's hissing aloud,\nAnd makes as much of you falling into it\nAs a pail of water would of a glowing coal.\nSollers : Don't you start burbling too, Shale.\nShale : That's the word !"}, {"page_pdf": 17, "page_imprimee": "74", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.17", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nBurbling, simmering, ay and bumpy-boiling :\nAll the women are mobbed together close\nUnder the witan-trees, and their full minds\nBoil like so many pans slung on a fire.\nWhy, starlings trooping in a copse in fall\nCould make no scandal like it.\nMerrick : What is it, man ?\nShale : End of the World! The flying star ! End of the World !\nSollers : They don't believe it though ?\nShale : What ? the whole place\nHas gone just randy over it!\nMerrick : Hold your noise !\nSollers : I shall be daft if this goes on.\nShale : Ay, so ?\nThe End of the World's been here ? You look as though\nYou'd startled lately. And there's the virtuous man !\nHow would End of the World suit our good Huff,\nOur old crab-verjuice Huff ?\nHuff (seizing the DOWSER and bringing him up in front of SHALE)\nIyook at him there !\nThis is the man I told you of, when you\nWere talking small of sin. You made it out,\nDid you, a fool's mere nasty game, like dogs\nThat snuggle in muck, and grin and roll themselves\nWith snoring pleasure ? Ah, but you are wrong.\n'Tis something that goes thrusting dreadfully\nIts wilful bravery of evil against\nThe worth and right of goodness in the world:\nAy, do you see how his face still brags at me ?\nAnd long it has been, the time he's had to walk"}, {"page_pdf": 18, "page_imprimee": "75", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.18", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nIyording about me with his wickedness.\nDo you know what he dared ? I had a wife,\nA flighty pretty linnet-headed girl,\nBut mine : he practised on her with his eyes;\nHe knew of luring glances, and she went\nAfter his calling lust: and all since then\nThey've lived together, fleering in my face,\nPleased in sight of the windows of my house\nWith doing wrong, and making my disgrace.\nO but wait here with me; wait till your news\nIs not to be mistaken, for the way\nThe earth buckles and singes like hot boards :\nYou'll surely see how dreadful sin can be\nThen, when you mark these two running about,\nWith raging fear for what they did against me\nBuzzing close to their souls, stinging their hearts,\nAnd they like scampering beasts when clegs are fierce,\nOr flinging themselves low as the ground to writhe,\nTheir arms hugging their desperate heads. And then\nYou'll see what 'tis to be an upright man,\nWho keeps a patient anger for his wrongs\nThinking of judgment coming—you will see that\nWhen you mark how my looks hunt these wretches,\nAnd smile upon their groans and posturing anguish.\nO watch how calm I'll be, when the blazing air\nJudges their wickedness; you watch me then\nIyooking delighted, like a nobleman\nWho sees his horse winning an easy race.\nMerrick : You fool, Huff, you believe it now !\nHuff: You fool,"}, {"page_pdf": 19, "page_imprimee": "76", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.19", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nMerrick, how should I not believe a thing\nThat calls aloud on my mind and spirit, and they\nAnswer to it like starving conquering soldiers\nTold to break out and loot ?\nShale : You vile old wasp !\nSollers : We've talkt enough : let's all go home and sleep ;\nThere might be a fiend in the air about us, one\nWho pours his will into our minds to see\nHow we can frighten one another.\nHuff: A fiend !\nShale will soon have the flapping wings of a fiend,\nAnd flaming wings, beating about his head.\nThere'll be no air for Shale, very soon now,\nBut the breathing of a fiend : the star's coming !\nThe star that breathes a horrible fury of fire\nIvike glaring fog into the empty night;\nAnd in the gust of its wrath the world will soon\nShrivel and spin like paper in a furnace.\nI knew they both would have to pay me at last\nWith sight of their damned souls for all my wrong !\nShale : Somebody stop his gab.\nMerrick [seizing the DOWSER and shaking him) : Is it the truth ?\nIs it the truth we're in the way of the star ?\nSollers : O let us go home ; let us go home and sleep !\nA crowd of men and women burst in and shout confusedly\n1. Iyook out for the star !\n2. 'Tis moving, moving.\n3. Grows as you stare at it.\n4. Bigger than ever."}, {"page_pdf": 20, "page_imprimee": "77", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.20", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\n1. Down it comes with a diving pounce,\nAs though it had lookt for us and at last found us.\n2. Oso near and coming so quick !\n3. And how the burning hairs of its tail\nDo seem surely to quiver for speed.\n4. We saw its great tail twitch behind it,\n'Tis come so near, so gleaming near.\n1. The tail is wagging !\n2. Come out and see !\n3. The star is wagging its tail and eyeing us—\n4. Like a cat huncht to leap on a bird.\nMerrick : Out of my way and let me see for myself.\n[They all begin to hustle out:\nHUFF speaks in midst of the turmoil.\nHuff: Ay, now begins the just man's reward;\nAnd hatred of the evil thing\nNow is to be satisfied.\nWrong ventured out against me and braved:\nAnd I'll be glad to see all breathing pleasure\nBurn as foolishly to naught\nAs a moth in candle flame,\nIf I but have my will to watch over those\nWho injured me bawling hoarse heartless fear.\nThey are all gone but HUFF, SHALE and the DOWSER.\nShale : As for you, let you and the women make\nYour howling scare of this; I'll stand and laugh.\nBut if it truly were the End of the World,\nI'ld be the man to face it out, not you :\nI who have let life go delighted through me,\nNot you, who've sulkt away your chance of life"}, {"page_pdf": 21, "page_imprimee": "78", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.21", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nIn mumping about being paid for goodness.\n[Going.\nHuff (after him) : You wait, you wait!\n[He follows the rest.\nDowser {alone) : Naught but a plague of flies !\nI cannot do with noises, and light fools\nTerrified round me; I must go out and think\nWhere there is quiet and no one near. O, think !\nLife that has done such wonders with its thinking,\nAnd never daunted in imagining;\nThat has put on the sun and the shining night,\nThe flowering of the earth and tides of the sea,\nAnd irresistible rage of fate itself,\nAll these as garments for its spirit's journey—\n0 now this life, in the brute chance of things,\nMurder'd, uselessly murder'd ! And naught else\nFor ever but senseless rounds of hurrying motion\nThat cannot glory in itself. Ono !\n1 will not think of that; I'll blind my brain\nWith fancying the splendours of destruction ;\nWhen like a burr in the star's fiery mane\nThe crackling earth is caught and rusht along,\nThe forests on the mountains blazing so,\nThat from the rocks of ore beneath them come\nWhite-hot rivers of smelted metal pouring\nAcross the plains to roar into the sea\nThe Curtain is lowered for a few moments only."}, {"page_pdf": 22, "page_imprimee": "79", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.22", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lciscelles Abercrombie\n\nACT 11.\nAs before, a little while after. The room is empty when the curtain\ngoes up. SOLLERS runs in and paces about, but stops short\nwhen he catches sight of a pot dog on the mantlepiece.\nSoilers : The pace it is coming down !—What to do now ?—\nMy brain has stopt: it's like a clock that's fallen\nOut of a window and broke all its cogs.—\nWhere's that old cider, Vine would have us pay-\nTwopence a glass for ? Iyet's try how it smells :\nOld Fox whelp, and a humming stingo it is!\n(To the pot dog.)\nHullo, you ! What are you grinning at ? —\nI know! There'll be no score against me for this drink!\n■ \\\nO that score ! I've drunk it down for a week\nWith every gulp of cider, and every gulp\nWas half the beauty it should have been, the score\nSo scratcht my swallowing throat, like a wasp in the drink !\nAnd I need never have heeded it!—\nOld grinning dog! You've seen me happy here ;\nAnd now, all's done ! But do you know this too,\nThat I can break you now, and never called\nTo pay for you ? [Throwing the dog on the floor.\nI shall be savage soon !\nWe're leaving all this!—O, and it was so pleasant\nHere, in here, of an evening. Smash !\n[He sweeps a lot of crockery on to the floor.\nIt's all no good ! Iyet's make a wreck of it all!\n[.Picking up a chair and swinging it.\nDamn me ! Now I'm forgetting to drink, and soon"}, {"page_pdf": 23, "page_imprimee": "80", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.23", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\n'Twill be too late. Where's there a mug not shivered ?\n[He goes to draw himself cider. MERRICK rushes in.\nMerrick : You at the barrels too ? Out of the road!\n[He pushes SOLLERS away and spills his mug.\nSoilers : Go and kick out of doors, you black donkey.\nMerrick : Let me come at the vessel, will you ?\n[They wrestle savagely.\nSollers : Keep off ;\nI'm the first here. Lap what you've spilt of mine.\nMerrick : You with your chiselling and screw-driving,\nYour wooden work, you bidding me, the man\nWho hammers a meaning into red hot iron ?\n[VINE comes in slowly. He is weeping; the two wrestlers stop\nand stare at him, as he sits down, and holds his head in his\nhands, sobbing.\nVine : O this is a cruel affair !\nSollers : Here's Vine crying !\nVine : I've seen the moon.\nMerrick : The moon ? 'Tisn't the moon\nThat's tumbling on us, but yon raging star.\nWhat notion now is clotted in your head ?\nVine : I've seen the moon ; it has nigh broke my heart.\nSollers : Not the moon too jumping out of her ways ?\nVine : No, no;—but going quietly and shining,\nPushing away a flimsy gentle cloud\nThat would drift smoky round her, fending it off\nWith steady rounds of blue ar>d yellow light.\nIt was not much to see. She was no more\nThan a curved bit of silver rind. But I\nNever before so noted her—"}, {"page_pdf": 24, "page_imprimee": "81", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.24", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nSoilers : What he said,\nThe dowser!\nMerrick : Ay, about his yellowhammers.\nSollers : And there's a kind of stifle in the air\nAlready !\nMerrick : It seems to me, my breathing goes\nAll hot down my wind pipe, hot as cider\nMulled and steaming travels down my swallow.\nSollers : And a queer racing through my ears of blood.\nMerrick : I wonder, is the star come closer still ?\nSollers : O, close, I know, and viciously heading down.\nVine : She was so silver ! And the sun had left\nA kind of tawny red, a dust of fine\nThin light upon the blue where she was lying,—\nJust a curled paring of the moon, amid\nThe faint grey cloud that set the gleaming wheel\nAround the tilted slip of shining silver.\n0 it did seem to me so safe and homely,\nThe moon quietly going about the earth;\nIt's a rare place we have to live in, here ;\nAnd life is such a comfortable thing\nAnd what's the sense of it all ? Naught but to make\nCruel as may be the slaughtering of it. [He breaks down again.\nSollers : It beats my mind! [He begins to walk up and down\ndesperately.\nMerrick : 'Twas bound to come sometime,\nBound to come, I suppose. 'Tis a poor thing\nFor us, to fall plumb in the chance of it;\nBut, now or another time, 'twas bound to be.—\n1 have been thinking back. When I was a lad"}, {"page_pdf": 25, "page_imprimee": "82", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.25", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abeicrombie\n\nI was delighted with my life : there seemed\nNaught but things to enjoy. Say we were bathing:\nThere Id be the cool smell of the water, and cool\nThe splashing under the trees: but I did loathe\nThe sinking mud slithering round my feet,\nAnd I did love to loathe it so ! And then\nWe'ld troop to kill a wasp's nest; and for sure\nI would be stung; and if I liked the dusk\nAnd singing and the game of it all, I loved\nThe smart of the stings, and fleeing the buzzing furies.\nAnd sometimes I'ld be looking at myself\nMaking so much of everything; there'ld seem\nA part of me speaking about myself:\n\"You know, this is much more than being happy.\n'Tis hunger of some power in you, that lives\nOn your heart's welcome for all sorts of luck,\nBut always looks beyond you for its meaning.\"\nAnd that's the way the world's kept going on,\nI believe now. Misery and delight\nHave both had liking welcome from it, both\nHave made the world keen to be glad and sorry.\nFor why ? It felt the living power thrive\nThe more it made everything, good and bad,\nIts own belonging, forged to its own affair,—\nThe living power that would do wonders someday.\nI don't know if you take me ?\nSollers : I do, fine ;\nI've felt the very thought go through my mind\nWhen I was at my wains; though 'twas a thing\nOf such a flight I could not read its colour.—"}, {"page_pdf": 26, "page_imprimee": "83", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.26", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nWhy was I like a man sworn to a thing\nWorking to have my wains in every curve,\nAy, every tenon, right and as they should be ?\nNot for myself, not even for those wains:\nBut to keep in me living at its best\nThe skill that must go forward and shape the world,\nHelping it on to make some masterpiece.\nMerrick : And never was there aught to come of it!\nThe world was always looking to use its life\nIn some great handsome way at last. And now—\nWe are just fooled. There never was any good\nIn the world going on or being at all.\nThe fine things life has plotted to do are worth\nA rotten toadstool kickt to flying bits.\nEnd of the World ? Ay, and the end of a joke.\nVine : Well, Huff's the man for this turn.\nMerrick : Ay, the good man !\nHe could but grunt when times were pleasant; now\nThere's misery enough to make him trumpet.\nAnd yet, by God, he shan't come blowing his horn\nOver my misery !\nWe are just fooled, did I say ?— We fooled ourselves,\nIyooking for worth in what was still to come;\nAnd now there's a stop to our innings. Well, that's fair :\nI've been a living man, and might have been\nNothing at all! I've had the world about me,\nAnd felt it as my own concern. What else\nShould Ibe crying for ? I've had my turn.\nThe world may be for the sake of naught at last,\nBut it has been for my sake : I've had that.\n[He sits again, and broods."}, {"page_pdf": 27, "page_imprimee": "84", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.27", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nSollers: I can't stay here. I must be where my sight\nMay silence with its business all my thinking,—\nThough it will be the star plunged down so close\nIt puffs its flaming vengeance in my face.\n[He goes.\nVine : I wish there were someone who had done me wrong,\nIyike Huff with his wife and Shale; I wish there were\nSomebody I would like to see go crazed\nWith staring fright. I'd have my pleasure then\nOf living on into the End of the World.\nBut there is no one at all for me, no one\nNow my poor wife is gone.\nMerrick : Why, what did she\nTo harm you ?\nVine: Didn't she marry me?—It's true\nShe made it come all right. She died at last.\nBesides, it would be wasting wishes on her,\nTo be in hopes of her weeping at this.\nShe'ld have her hands on her hips and her tongue jumping\nAs nimble as a stoat, delighting round\nThe way the world's to be terrible and tormented.—\nAy, but I'll have a thing to tell her now\nWhen she begins to ask the news! I'll say\n\" You've misst such a show as never was nor will be,\nA roaring great affair of death and ruin;\nAnd I was there—the world smasht to sparkles! \"\nO, I can see her vext at that!\n[MERRICK has been sunk in thought during this, but VINE\nseems to brighten at his notion, and speaks quite cheerfully\nto HUFF who now comes in, looking mopish, and sits\ndown."}, {"page_pdf": 28, "page_imprimee": "85", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.28", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nVine: We've all been envying you, Huff. You're well off,\nYou with your goodness and your enemies\nShowing you how to relish it with their terror.\nWhen do you mean the gibing is to start ?\nHuff: There's time enough.\nVine : O, do they still hold out ?\nIf they should be for spiting you to the last!\nYou Id best keep on at them : think out a list\nOf frantic things for them to do, when air\nIs scorching smother and the sin they did\nFrightens their hearts. You'll shout them into fear,\nI undertake, if you find breath enough.\nHuff: You have the breath. What's all your pester for ?\nYou leave me be.\nVine : Why, you're to do for me\nWhat I can't do myself.—And yet it's hard\nTo make out where Shale hurt you. What s the sum\nOf all he did to you ? Got you quit of marriage\nWithout the upset of a funeral.\nHuff: Why need you blurt your rambling mind at me ?\nLet me bide quiet in my thought awhile,\nAnd it's a little while we have for thought.\nMerrick : I know your thought! Paddling round and around,\nLike a squirrel working in a spinning cage\nWith his neck stretcht to have his chin poke up,\nAnd silly feet busy and always going;\nPaddling round the story of your good life,\nYour small good life, and how the decent men\nHave jeered at your wry antic.\nHuff: My good life!"}, {"page_pdf": 29, "page_imprimee": "86", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.29", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nAnd what good has my goodness been to me ?\nYou show me that! Somebody show me that!\nA caterpillar munching a cabbage-heart,\nAlways drudging further and further from\nThe sounds and lights of the world, never abroad\nNor flying free in warmth and air sweet-smelling:\nA crawling caterpillar, eating his life\nIn a deaf dark—that's my gain of goodness !\nAnd it's too late to hatch out now !—\nI can but fancy what I might have been ;\nI scarce know how to sin !— But I believe\nA long while back I did come near to it.\nMerrick : Well done !— O but I should have guesst all this !\nHuff: I was in Droitwich ; and the sight of the place\nIs where they cook the brine : a long dark shed,\nHot as an oven, full of a grey steam\nAnd ruddy light that leaks out of the furnace ;\nAnd stirring the troughs, ladling the brine that boils\nAs thick as treacle, a double standing row,\nWomen—boldly talking in wicked jokes\nAll day long. I went to see 'em. It was\nA wonderful rousing sight. Not one of them\nWas really wearing clothes: half of a sack\nPinned in an apron was enough for most,\nAnd here and there might be a petticoat;\nBut nothing in the way of bodices.—\nO, they knew words to shame a carter's face !\nMerrick : This is the thought you would be quiet in !\nHuff: Where else can Ibe quiet ? Now there's an end\nOf daring, 'tis the one place my life has made"}, {"page_pdf": 30, "page_imprimee": "87", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.30", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nWhere I may try to dare in thought. I mind,\nWhen I stood in the midst of those bare women,\nAll at once, outburst with a rising buzz,\nA mob of flying thoughts was wild in me :\nThings I might do swarmed in my brain pell-mell,\nLike a heap of flies kickt into humming cloud.\nI beat them down ; and now I cannot tell\nFor certain what they were. I can call up\nNaught venturesome and darting like their style;\nVery tame braveries now!—O Shale's the man\nTo smile upon the End of the World; 'tis Shale\nHas lived the bold stiff fashion, and filled himself\nWith thinking pride in what a man may do.—\nI wish I had seen those women more than once !\nVine : Well, here's an upside down ! This is old Huff !\nWhat have you been in your heart all these years ?\nThe man you were or the new man you are ?\nHuff: Just a dead flesh !\nMerrick : Nay, Huff the good man at least\nWas something alive, though snarling like trapt vermin.\nBut this ? What's this for the figure of a man ?\nsTis a boy's smutty picture on a wall.\nHuff: I was alive, was I ? Like a blind bird\nThat flies and cannot see the flight it takes,\nFeeling it with mere rowing of its wings.\nBut Shale—he's had a stirring sense of what he is.\nShouting outside. Then SOLLERS walks in again, very\nquiet and steady. He stands in the middle, looking down\non the floor.\nVine : What do they holla for there ?"}, {"page_pdf": 31, "page_imprimee": "88", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.31", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nSollers : The earth.\nMerrick : The earth ?\nSollers : The earth's afire.\nHuff: The earth blazing already? [Shouts again.\nO, not so soon as this ?\nVine : What sort of a fire ?\nSollers : The earth has caught the heat of the star, you fool.\nMerrick : I know : there's come some dazzle in your eyes\nFrom facing to the star; a lamp would do it.\nHuff: It will be that. Your sight, being so strained,\nIs flashing of itself.\nSollers : Say what you like.\nThere's a red flare out of the land beyond\nLooking over the hills into our valley.\nThe thing's begun, 'tis certain. Go and see.\nVine : I won't see that. I will stay here.\nSollers : Ay, creep\nInto your oven. You'll be cooler there.—\nOmy God, we'll all be coals in an hour ! [Shouts again.\nHuff: And I have naught to stand in my heart upright,\nAnd vow it made my living time worth more\nThan if my time had been death in a grave !\nSeveral persons run in.\nThe Crowd. 1. The river's the place !\n2. The only safe place now!\n3. Best all charge down to the river!\n4. For there's a blaze,\nA travelling blaze comes racing along the earth.\nSollers : 'Tis true. The air's red-hot above the hills.\nThe Crowd : 1. Ay, but the burning now crests the hill-tops\nIn quiver of yellow flame."}, {"page_pdf": 32, "page_imprimee": "89", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.32", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\n2. And a great smoke\nWaving and tumbling upward.\n3. The river now !\n4. The only place we have, not to be roasted !\nMerrick : And what will make us water-rats or otters,\nTo keep our breath still living through a dive\nThat lasts until the earth's burnt out ? Or how\nWould that trick serve, when we stand up to gasp,\nAnd find the star waiting for our plunged heads\nTo knock them into pummy ?\nVine : Scarce more dazed\nI'ld be with that than now. I shall be bound,\nWhen I'm to give my wife the tale of it all,\nTo be devising : more of this to-do\nMy mind won't carry.\nHuff: O ashamed I am,\nAshamed!— It needn't have been downright feats,\nSuch as the braving men, the like of Shale,\nDo easily, and smile, keeping them up.\nIf I could look back to one manful hour\nOf romping in the face of all my goodness !—\nSHALE comes in, dragging Mrs. HUFF by the hand.\nShale : Huff ! Where's Huff ?—Huff, you must take her back !\nYou'll take her back ? She's yours : I give her up.\nMerrick : Belike here's something bold again.\nMrs. Huff {to SHALE) : Once more,\nListen.\nShale : I will not listen. There's no time\nFor aught but giving you back where you belong;—\nAnd that's with you, Huff. Take her."}, {"page_pdf": 33, "page_imprimee": "90", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.33", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nHuff: Here is depth\nI cannot see to. Is it your last fling ? —\nThe dolt I am in these things !— What's this way\nYou've found of living wickedly to the end ?\nShale : Scorn as you please, but take her back, man, take her.\nHuff: But she's my wife ! Take her back now ? What for ?\nMrs. Huff: What for ? Have you not known of thieves that throw\nTheir robbery down, soon as they hear a step\nSounding behind them on the road, and run\nA long way off, and pull an honest face ?\nAy, see Shale's eyes practising baby-looks!\nHe never stole, not he !\nShale : Don't hear her talk.\nMrs. Huff: But he was a talker once ! Iyove was the thing ;\nAnd love, he swore, would make the wrong go right,\nAnd Huff was a kind of devil—and that's true\nHuff: What? I've been devilish and never knew?\nMrs. Huff: The devil in the world that hates all love.\nBut Shale said, he'd the love in him would hold\nIf the world's frame and the fate of men were crackt.\nShale : What I said !\nWhoever thought the world was going to crack ?\nMrs. Huff: And now he hears someone move behind him.—\nThey'll say, perhaps, \"You stole this ! \"—Down it goes,\nThrown to the dirty road—thrown to Huff!\nShale : Yes, to the owner.\nMrs. Huff: It was not such brave thieving.\nYou did not take me from my owner, Shale:\nThere's an old robber will do that some day,\nNot you."}, {"page_pdf": 34, "page_imprimee": "91", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.34", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nVine : Were you thinking of me then, missis ?\nMrs. Huff (still to SHALE) : You found me lost in the dirt: I\nwas with Huff.\nYou lifted me from there ; and there again,\nLike a frightened urchin, you're for throwing me.\nShale : Let it be that! I'm firm\nNot to have you about me, when the thing,\nWhatever it is, that's standing now behind\nThe burning of the world, comes out on us.\nHuff: The way men cheat! This windle-stalk was he\nWould hold a show of spirit for the world\nTo study while it ruined ! —Make what you please\nOf your short wrangle here, but leave me out.\nI have my thoughts—O far enough from this. [Turning away.\nShale (seizing him) : You shall not put me off. I tell you, Huff,\nYou are to take her back now.\nHuff: Take her back !\nAnd what has she to do with what I want ?\nShale : Isn't she yours ? I must be quit of her ;\nI'll not be in the risk of keeping her.\nShe's yours!\nHuff: And what's the good of her now to me ?\nWhat's the good of a woman whom I've married ?\nDuring this, WARP the molecatcher has come in.\nWarp : Shale and Huff at their old pother again !\nMerrick : The molecatcher !\nSollers : Warp, have you travelled far ?\nIs it through frenzy and ghastly crowds you've come ?\nVine : Have you got dreadful things to tell us, Warp ?\nWarp : Why, no."}, {"page_pdf": 35, "page_imprimee": "92", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.35", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nBut seemingly you'ld have had news for me,\nIf I'd come later. Is Huff to murder Shale,\nOr Shale for murdering Huff ? One way or 'tother,\n'Tis time 'twas settled surely.—Mrs. Huff,\nThey're neither of them worth you : here's your health.\n[Draws and drinks.\nHuff: Where have you been ? Are you not new from folk\nThat throng together in a pelting horror ?\nWarp : Do you think the whole land hearkens to the flurry\nOf an old dog biting at a young dog's throat ?\nMerrick : No, no ! Not their shrill yapping ; you've not heard\nThe world's near to be blasted ?\nWarp : No mutter of it.\nI am from walking the whole ground I trap,\nAnd there's no likeness of it, but the moles\nI've turned up dead and dried out of three counties.\nS oilers : Why, but the fire that's eating the whole'earth ;\nThe breath of it is scarlet in the sky !\nYou must have seen that ?\nWarp : But what's taken you ?\nYou are like boys that go to hunt for ghosts,\nAnd turn the scuttle of rats to a roused demon\nCrawling to shut the door of the barn they search.\nFire ? Yes, fire is a playing a pretty game\nYonder, and has its golden fun to itself,\nSeemingly.\nSollers : You don't know what 'tis that burns ?\nWarp : Call me a mole and not a molecatcher\nIf Ido not. It is a rick that burns ;\nAnd a strange thing I'll count it if the rick"}, {"page_pdf": 36, "page_imprimee": "93", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.36", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nBe not old Huff's.\nSollers : That flare a fired stack ?\nHuff: Only one of my ricks alight ? O Glory !\nThere may be chance for me yet.\nMerrick : Best take the train\nTo Droitwich, Huff.\nVine (at the door) : It would be like a stack,\nBut for the star.\nSollers (to WARP): Yes, as you're so clever,\nYou can talk down maybe yon brandishing star !\nWarp : O, 'tis the star has flickt your brains ? Indeed,\nThe tail swings long enough to-night for that.\nWell, look your best at it; 'tis off again\nTo go its rounds, they tell me, from now on ;\nAnd the next time it swaggers in our sky,\nThe moles a long while will have tired themselves\nOf having their easy joke with me. [A pause.\nMerrick : You mean\nThe flight of the star is from us ?\nSollers : But the world,\nThe whole world reckons on it battering us!\nWarp : Who told you that ?\nSollers : A dowser.\nMerrick : Where's he gone ?\nWarp : A dowser ! say a tramping conjurer.\nYou'll believe aught, if you believe a dowser.\nSollers : I had it in me to be doubting him.\nMerrick ; The noise you made was like that! But I knew\nYou'ld laugh at me, so sure you were the world\nWould shiver like a bursting grindlestone :"}, {"page_pdf": 37, "page_imprimee": "94", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.37", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nElse I'ld have said out loud, 'twas a fool's whimsy.\nVine : Where are you now ? What am I now to think ?\nYour minds run round in puzzles, like chased hares.\nI cannot sight them.\nMerrick : Think of going to bed.\nSollers : And dreaming prices for your pigs.\nMerrick : O Warp,\nYou should have seen Vine crying ! The moon, he said,\nThe silver moon ! Just like an onion 'twas\nTo stir the water in his eyes.\nSollers: He's left\nA puddle of his tears where he was droopt\nOver the table\nVine : There's to be no ruin ? —\nBut what's the word of a molecatcher, to crow\nSo ringing over a dowser's word ?\nWarp : I'll tell you.\nThese dowsers live on lies : my trade's the truth.\nI can read moles, and the way they've dug their journeys,\nWhere you Id not see a wrinkle.\nVine : And he knows\nThe buried water.\nWarp : There's always buried water,\nIf you prod deep enough. A dowser finds\nBecause the whole earth's floating, like a raft.\nWhat does he know ? A twitching in his thews •\nA dog asleep knows that much. What I know\nI've learnt, and if I'd learnt it wrong, I'ld starve.\nAnd if I'm right about the grubbing moles,\nWon't I be right for news of walking men ?"}, {"page_pdf": 38, "page_imprimee": "95", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.38", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nMerrick : Of course you're right. Let's put the whole thing by,\nAnd have a pleasant drink.\nShale (to Mrs. HUFF) : You must be tired\nWith all this story. Shall we be off for home ?\nHuff: You brass ! You don't go now with her ! She's mine :\nYou gave her up.\nShale: And you made nothing of her.\n(to Mrs. HUFF) : Come on.\nMrs. Huff: Warp, will you do a thing for me ?\nWarp : A hundred things.\nMrs. Huff: Then slap me these cur-dogs.\nWarp : I will. Where will I slap them, and which first ?\nMrs. Huff: Maybe 'twill do if you but laugh at them.\nWarp : I'll try for that; but they are not good jokes ;\nThough there's a kind of monkey-look about them.\nMrs. Huff: They thinking I'ld be near one or the other\nAfter this night! Will Ibe made no more\nThan clay that children puddle to their minds,\nMoulding it what they fancy ? —Shale was brave:\nHe made a bogy and defied it, till\nHe frightened of his work and ran away.\nBut Huff!— Huff was for modelling wickedly :\nHuff: Who told you that ?\nMrs. Huff: I need no one's telling.\nI was your wife once. Don't I know your goodness ?\nA stupid heart gone sour with jealousy,\nTo feel its blood too dull and thick for sinning.—\nYes, Huff would figure a wicked thought, but had\nNo notion how, and flung the clay aside.—\nO they were gaudy colours both ! But now"}, {"page_pdf": 39, "page_imprimee": "96", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.39", "texte": "THE END OF THE WORLD Lascelles Abercrombie\n\nFear has bleacht their swagger and left them blank,\nFear of a loon that cried, End of the World !\nHuff: Shale, do you know what we're to do ?\nShale : I'ld like\nTo have the handling of that dowser-man.\nHuff: Just that, my lad, just that!\nWarp : And your fired rick ?\nHuff: Let it be blazes ! Quick, Shale, after him !\nI'll tramp the night out, but I'll take the rogue.\nShale {to the others) : You wait, and see us haul him by the ears,\nAnd swim the blatherer in Huff's farm-yard pond.\nAs HUFF and SHALE go out, they see the comet before them.\nHuff: The devil's own star is that!\nShale : And floats as calm\nAs a pike basking.\nHuff: There shouldn't be such stars !\nShale : Neither such dowsers, and we'll learn him that.\n[They go off together.\nSollers : Why, the star's dwindling now, surely !\nMerrick : O, small\nAnd dull now to the glowing size it was.\nVine : But is it certain there'll be nothing smasht ?\nNot even a house knockt roaring down in crumbles ?\nAnd I did think, I'ld open my wife's mouth\nWith envy of the dreadful things I'd seen !\nCURTAIN."}, {"page_pdf": 40, "page_imprimee": "97", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.40", "texte": "LOVE’S HOUSE\nJohn Drinkwater\nI.\nI know not how these men or those may take\nTheir first glad measure of love's character,\nOr whether one should let the summer make\nLove's festival, and one the falling year.\nI only know that in my prime of days\nWhen my young branches came to blossoming,\nYou were the sign that loosed my lips in praise,\nYou were the zeal that governed all my spring.\nII.\nIn prudent counsel many gathered near,\nForewarning us of deft and secret snares\nThat are love's use. We heard them as we hear\nThe ticking of a clock upon the stairs.\nThe troops of reason, careful to persuade,\nBlackened love's name, but love was more than these,\nFor we had wills to venture unafraid\nThe trouble of unnavigable seas.\nIII.\nTheir word was but a barren seed that lies\nUndrawn of the sun's health and undesired,\nBecause the habit of their hearts was wise,\nBecause the wisdom of their tongues was tired.\nFor in the smother of contentious pride,\nAnd in the fear of each tumultuous mood,\nOur love has kept serenely fortified\nAnd unusurped one stedfast solitude."}, {"page_pdf": 41, "page_imprimee": "98", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.41", "texte": "LOVE'S HOUSE John Drinkwater\n\nIV.\nDark words, and hasty humours of the blood\nHave come to us and made no longer stay\nThan footprints of a bird upon the mud\nThat in an hour the tide will take away.\nBut not March weather over ploughlands blown,\nNor cresses green upon their gravel bed,\nAre beautiful with the clean rigour grown\nOf quiet thought our love has piloted.\nV.\nI sit before the hearths of many men,\nWhen speech goes gladly, eager to withhold\nNo word at all, yet when I pass again\nThe last of words is captive and untold.\nWe talk together in love's house, and there\nNo thought but seeks what counsel you may give,\nAnd every secret trouble from its lair\nComes to your hand, no longer fugitive.\nVI.\nI woo the world, with burning will to be\nDelighted in all fortune it may find,\nAnd still the strident dogs of jealousy\nGo mocking down the tunnels of my mind.\nOnly for you my contemplation goes\nClean as a god's, undarkened of pretence,\nMost happy when your garner overflows,\nAchieving in your prosperous diligence."}, {"page_pdf": 42, "page_imprimee": "99", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.42", "texte": "LOVE'S HOUSE John Drinkivater\n\nVII.\nWhen from the dusty corners of my brain\nComes limping some ungainly word or deed,\nI know not if my dearest friend's disdain\nBe durable or brief, spent husk or seed.\nBut your rebuke and that poor fault of mine\nGo straitly outcast, and we close the door,\nAnd I, no promise asking and no sign,\nStand blameless in love's presence as before.\nVIII.\nA beggar in the ditch, I stand and call\nMy questions out upon the queer parade\nOf folk that hurry by, and one and all\nGo down the road with never answer made\nIdo not question love. lam a lord\nHigh at love's table, and the vigilant king,\nUnquestioned, from the hubbub at the board\nLeans down to me and tells me everything."}, {"page_pdf": 43, "page_imprimee": "100", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.43", "texte": "HEAVEN\nRupert Brooke\nFish (fly-replete, in depth of June,\nDawdling away their wat'ry noon)\nPonder deep wisdom, dark or clear,\nEach secret fishy hope or fear.\nFish say, they have their Stream and Pond,\nBut is there anything Beyond ?\nThis life cannot be All, they swear,\nFor how unpleasant, if it were !\nOne may not doubt that, somehow, Good\nShall come of Water and of Mud;\nAnd, sure, the reverent eye must see\nA Purpose in Liquidity.\nWe darkly know, by Faith we cry,\nThe future is not Wholly Dry.\nMud unto mud !—Death eddies near—\nNot here the appointed End, not here !\nBut somewhere, beyond Space and Time,\nIs wetter water, slimier slime !\nAnd there (they trust) there swimmeth One\nWho swam ere rivers were begun,\nImmense, of fishy form and mind,\nSquamous, omnipotent, and kind;\nAnd under that Almighty Fin,\nThe littlest fish may enter in.\nOh ! never fly conceals a hook,\nFish say, in the Eternal Brook,\nBut more than mundane weeds are there,\nAnd mud, celestially fair;\nFat caterpillars drift around,\nAnd Paradisal grubs are found ;\nUnfading moths, immortal flies,\nAnd the worm that never dies.\nAnd in that Heaven of all their wish,\nThere shall be no more land, say fish."}, {"page_pdf": 44, "page_imprimee": "101", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.44", "texte": "A CATCH FOR SINGING\nWilfrid Wilson Gibson\nSaid the Old Young Man to the Young Old Man :\n\" Alack, and well-a-day ! \"\nSaid the Young Old Man to the Old Young Man :\n\" The cherry-tree's in flourish ! \"\nSaid the Old Young Man to the Young Old Man :\n\" The world is growing grey.\"\nSaid the Young Old Man to the Old Young Man :\n\" The cherry-tree's in flourish !\nSaid the Old Young Man to the Young Old Man :\n\" Both flower and fruit decay.\"\nSaid the Young Old Man to the Old Young Man:\n\" The cherry-tree's in flourish !\nSaid the Old Young Man to the Young Old Man :\n\" Alack, and well-a-day !\nThe world is growing grey;\nAnd flower and fruit decay.\nBeware Old Man, beware Old Man !\nFor the end of life is nearing;\nAnd the grave yawns by the way. . .\"\nSaid the Young Old Man to the Old Young Man r\n\"I'm a trifle hard of hearing;\nAnd can't catch a word you say. . .\nBut the cherry-tree's in flourish!"}, {"page_pdf": 45, "page_imprimee": "102", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.45", "texte": "THE TRAM\nWilfrid Wilson Gibson\nHumming and creaking, the car down the street\nIvumbered and lurched through thunderous gloam;\nBearing us, spent and dumb with the heat,\nFrom office and counter and factory home:\nSallow-faced clerks, genteel in black;\nGirls from the laundries, draggled and dank;\nRuddy-faced labourers, slouching slack;\nA broken actor, grizzled and lank;\nA mother with querulous babe on her lap ;\nA schoolboy whistling under his breath;\nAn old man crouched in a dreamless nap ;\nA widow with eyes on the eyes of death;\nA priest; a sailor with deepsea gaze;\nA soldier in scarlet, with waxed moustache;\nA drunken trollop in velvet and lace;\nAll silent in that tense dusk . . . when a flash\nOf lightning shivered the sultry gloom :\nWith shattering brattle the whole sky fell\nAbout us; and rapt to a dazzling doom\nWe glided on in a timeless spell,\nUnscathed through deluge and flying fire,\nIn a magical chariot of streaming glass,\nCut off from our kind and the world's desire,\nMade one by the awe that had come to pass."}, {"page_pdf": 46, "page_imprimee": "103", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.46", "texte": "Wilfrid Wilson Gibson\n\nTHE GREETING\n\" What fettle, mate ? \" to me he said\nAs he went by\nWith lifted head\nAnd laughing eye,\nWhere, black against the dawning red,\nThe pit-heaps cut the sky :\n\" What fettle, mate ?\n\" What fettle, mate ? \" to him I said,\nAs he went by\nWith shrouded head\nAnd darkened eye,\nBorne homeward by his marrows, dead\nBeneath the noonday sky :\n\" What fettle, mate ? \""}, {"page_pdf": 47, "page_imprimee": "104", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.47", "texte": "Wilfrid Wilson Gibson\n\nON HAMPSTEAD HEATH\nAgainst the green flame of the hawthorn-tree\nHis scarlet tunic burns;\nAnd livelier than the green sap's mantling glee\nThe Spring fire tingles through him headily\nAs quivering he turns\nAnd stammers out the old amazing tale\nOf youth and April weather:\nWhile she, with half-breathed jests that, sobbing, fail,\nSits, tight-lipped, quaking, eager-eyed and pale,\nBeneath her purple feather."}, {"page_pdf": 48, "page_imprimee": "105", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.48", "texte": "THE ICE\nHer day out from the workhouse-ward, she stands,\nA grey-haired woman, decent and precise,\nWith prim black bonnet and neat paisley shawl,\nAmong the other children by the stall,\n9\nAnd with grave relish eats a penny ice.\nTo wizened toothless gums, with quaking hands\nShe holds it, shuddering with delicious cold:\nNor heeds the jeering laughter of young men,\nThe happiest, in her innocence, of all:\nFor, while their insolent youth must soon grow old,\nShe, who's been old, is now a child again.\nD\n\nWilf rid Wilson Gibson"}, {"page_pdf": 49, "page_imprimee": "106", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.49", "texte": "THE GORSE\nIn dream, again within the clean, cold hell\nOf glazed and aching silence he was trapped;\nAnd, closing in, the blank walls of his cell\nCrushed stifling on him . . . when the bracken snapped,\nCaught in his clutching fingers: and he lay\nAwake upon his back among the fern,\nWith free eyes travelling the wide blue day\nUnhindered, unremembering; while a burn\nTinkled and gurgled somewhere out of sight,\nUnheard of him, till, suddenly aware\nOf its cold music, shivering in the light,\nHe raised himself ; and with far-ranging stare\nLooked all about him : and, with dazed eyes wide\nSaw, still as in a numb, unreal dream,\nBlack figures scouring a far hill-side,\nWith now and then a sunlit rifle's gleam ;\nAnd knew the hunt was hot upon his track :\nYet hardly seemed to mind, somehow, just then . .\nBut kept on wondering why they looked so black\nOn that hot hillside, all those little men\nWho scurried round like beetles—twelve, all told . . .\nHe counted them twice over; and began\nA third time reckoning them, but could not hold\nHis starved wits to the business, while they ran\nSo brokenly, and always stuck at \" five .\nAnd \" One, two, three, four, five \" a dozen times\nHe muttered . . . \" Can you catch a fish alive ? \"\nSang mocking echoes of old nursery-rhymes\nThrough the strained, tingling hollow of his head.\n\nWilfrid Wilson Gibson"}, {"page_pdf": 50, "page_imprimee": "107", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.50", "texte": "THE GORSE Wilfrid Wilson Gibson\n\nAnd now, almost remembering, he was stirred\nTo pity them : and wondered if they'd fed\nSince he had, or if, ever since they'd heard\nTwo nights ago the sudden signal-gun\nThat raised alarm of his escape, they, too,\nHad fasted in the wilderness, and run\nWith nothing but the thirsty wind to chew,\nAnd nothing in their bellies but a fill\nOf cold peat water, till their heads were light .\nThe crackling of a rifle on the hill\nRang in his ears : and stung to headlong flight,\nHe started to his feet; and through the brake\nHe \\plunged in panic, heedless of the sunf\nThat burned his cropped head to a red-hot ache\nStill racked with crackling echoes of the gun.\nThen suddenly the sun-enkindled fire\nOf gorse upon the moor-top caught his eye;\nAnd that gold glow held all his heart's desire,\nAs, like a witless flame-bewildered fly,\nHe blundered towards the league-wide yellow\nAnd tumbled headlong on the spikes of bloom;\nAnd rising, bruised and bleeding and adaze,\nStruggled through clutching spines: the dense, sweet fume\nOf nutty, acrid scent like poison stealing\nThrough his hot blood : the bristling yellow glare\nSpiking his eyes with fire, till he went reeling,\nStifling and blinded, on—and did not care"}, {"page_pdf": 51, "page_imprimee": "108", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.51", "texte": "THE GORSE Wilfrid Wilson Gibson\n\nThough he were taken—wandering round and round,\n\" Jerusalem the Golden \" quavering shrill,\nChanging his tune to \" Tommy Tiddler's Ground \" :\nTill, just a lost child on that dazzling hill,\nBewildered in a glittering golden maze\nOf stinging scented fire, he dropped, quite done,\nA shrivelling wisp within a world ablaze\nBeneath a blinding sky, one blaze of sun."}, {"page_pdf": 52, "page_imprimee": "[109]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.52", "texte": "Books by the same\nBy LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE\nInterludes and Poems ... 1908.\nMary and the Bramble ... 1910.\nThe Sale of St. Thomas ... 1911.\nEmblems of Love - ... 1912.\nDeborah 1913.\nBy RUPERT BROOKE\nPoems 1911.\nBy JOHN DRINKWATER\nLyrical and Other Poems ... 1908.\nPoems of Men and Hours ... 1911.\nCophetua - - - - ... 1911.\nPoems of Love and Earth ... 1912.\nCromwell and Other Poems 1913.\nBy WILFRID WILSON GIBSON\nwriters.\n(out of print)\n(out of print)\nThe Stonefolds\nOn the Threshold -\nAkra the Slave\nDaily Bread -\nFires\n1907.\n1907.\n1910.\n1910.\n1912."}, {"page_pdf": 53, "page_imprimee": "[110]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaav191404-01.1.53", "texte": "CRYPT HOUSE PRESS,\nGLOUCESTER."}]}