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Entry type: Book Call Number: 2692 Barcode: 31290036136505
  • Publication Date

    1912

  • Place of Publication

    Sydney

  • Book-plate

    No

  • Summary

    Inscription: December 1912.

  • Edition

    First

  • Number of Pages

    264

  • Publication Info

    hardcover

Copy specific notes

Bookplate inserted; inscribed in brown ink on front endpaper: “Robert G. Menzies from his father. Xmas 1912. Long may you cultivate the muse”. Pp. 184; 187 earmarked (poem “Convict Once”). Some highlights of text made in pencil in margins including: [p. 188] “Die then, sad memories, leaving behind you nor token nor relic! Hark how the tremulous night-wind is passing in joyladen sights; soft through my window it comes, like the fanning of pinions angelic, Whispering to cease from myself, and look out on the infinite skies. [/] Out on the orb-studded night, and the crescent effulgence of Dian; Out on the far-gleaming star-dust that marks where the angels have trod; Out on the gem-pointed Cross, and the glittering pomp of Orion, Flaming in measureless azure, the coronal jewels of God”; [p. 192] written in margin by Menzies “Wordsworth’s Immortality Ode” and passage of Stephens highlighted in pencil: “Lofty things move them to worship; adoring they wonder, but fear not; Little things minister pleasure, as ever it fares with the good; Nature to them utters low subtle voices that other ears hear not; marvellous harmonies greet them from river, and mountain, and wood. [/] Down in umbrageous retreats, chosen haunts by the shadow-flecked river, Drinking delights from the murmur of streams and the flutter of wings, Streams as they murmur, bright wings as they flutter, green leaves as they quiver, All have strange music for them, and a tale of invisible things”; [p. 216] “Linger, O Sun, for a little, nor close yet this day of a million! Is there not glory enough in the rose-curtained halls of the West? Hast though no joy in the passion-hued folds of thy kingly pavilion? Why shouldst though only pass through it? Oh rest thee a little while, rest! [/] Why should the Night come and take it, and wan Night that cannot enjoy it, Bringing pale argent for golden, and changing vermilion to grey? Why should the Night come and shadow it, entering by to destroy it? Rest ‘mid thy ruby-trailed splendours! Oh stay thee a little while, stay!”.

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