Yell.

YELL-YESTERDAY

583

That hoarse, fierce yell of a mob

In its masterless rage.

WALTER C. SMITH, A Heretic and other Poems: The Lettre de

Yeoman.

Hurrah for the English yeoman!

Fill full, fill the cup!

Hurrah! he yields to no man!

Drink deep; drink it up!

Cachet, ll. 202-3.

JOHN DAVIDSON, Fleet Street Eclogues: Michaelmas (Song.)

Yes; Yea.

Yea, alas, must turn to Nay,

Flesh to clay.

W. E. HENLEY, Poems: Ballade of Truisms, ll. 25-6.

"She tossed, as artful maidens can,

A thread of silk to the drowning man;

And last of all-for I hate to prose

One Yes' atoned for a score of 'Noes.'"

FREDERICK LANGBRIDGE, Ballads and Legends: Sam Green's

Yesterday.

They loved and laughed, they kissed and chaffed,

They threw the happy hours away:

That's the way the world goes round-
That's the story of yesterday.

"Yesterday

Love, st. 15.

MORTIMER COLLINS, A Trifle, st. 1.

Was once the date of every lasting change."

JOHN DAVIDSON, Plays: Bruce, act II., sc. 2 (Douglas).

Nothing they gat or of hope or ease,

But only to beat on the breast and say:"Life we drank to the dregs and lees;

Give us ah! give us-but Yesterday!"

AUSTIN DOBSON, Essays in Old French Forms: The Prodigals,

st. 3.

Many there be by the dusty way

Many that cry to the rocks and seas

"Give us-ah! give us-but Yesterday!"

AUSTIN DOBSON, Essays in Old French Forms: The Prodigals

I know

I cannot by the duty of to-day

Atone for failure of duty yesterday.

(Envoy).

WALTER C. SMITH, A Heretic and Other Poems: Paul in Tarsus,

ll. 234-5.

Old Yew, which graspest at the stones
That name the under-lying dead,
Thy fibres net the dreamless head,
Thy roots are wrapt about the bones.

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, In Memoriam, II., st. 1.

Old emperor Yew, fantastic sire,

Girt with thy guard of dotard Kings,

What ages hast thou seen retire

Into the dusk of alien things?

What mighty news hath stormed thy shade,

Of armies perished, realms unmade?

You.

WILLIAM WATSON, The Father of the Forest, Pt. I., st. 1.

When I say you" 'tis the common soul, The collective, I mean: the race of Man That receives life in parts to live in a whole, And grow here according to God's clear plan. ROBERT BROWNING, Dramatic Lyrics: Old Pictures in Florence, st. 14. The whole theory of the universe is directed unerringly to one single individual-namely to You. WALT WHITMAN, Leaves of Grass: By Blue Ontario's Shore, 15, l. 10. Youth.

Youth's too bright not to be a little hard

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING, Aurora Leigh, bk. VI., I. 1005.

"Youth is bold of heart

And hot in battle, but to guard the tongue

And to restrain the hand come with long years."

ROBERT BRIDGES The Return of Ulysses, act II., l. 824-6 (Ulysses). In age we'll sigh

O'er the wild reckless wicked days flown over.

ROBERT BROWNING, Pippa Passes, Pt. II., U. 133-4.

"The self-complacent boy-inquirer, loud

On this and that inflicted tyranny."

ROBERT BROWNING, The Return of the Druses, act II. (Anael).

"Youth is the only time

To think and to decide on a great course."

ROBERT BROWNING, Strafford, act V., sc. 2 (Strafford).

In youth's indulgence think there yet might be

A truth forgot by grey severity.

A. H. CLOUGH, Thesis and Antithesis, st. 3.

Youth and hope

Spare none of us-Syren and Circe linked

In one divine betrayal of the world!

JOHN DAVIDSON, The Last Ballad, etc.: The Ordeal, ll. 160-2.

YOUTH

Youth thinks itself the goal of each old life;
Age has but travelled from a far-off time

Just to be ready for youth's services.

585

GEORGE ELIOT," The Legend of Jubal, etc.: Armgart, sc. 5,

He is not of counted age,

Meaning always to be young.

ll. 230-2.

R. W. EMERSON, The Initial Love, ll. 146-7.

"MICHAEL FIELD," Underneath the Bough: The Fourth Book of

Songs, Song 25.

O Memory, where is now my youth,
Who used to say that life was truth?
THOMAS HARDY, Poems of the Past and the Present: Memory
and I, st. 1.

He was a valiant youth, and his face, like the face of the morning.
Gladdened the earth with its light, and ripened thought into action.
H. W. LONGFELLOW, Evangeline, Pt. I., l. 122-3.

The brisk, swift days of youth, which cares for nought
But for the joy of living; scarce a thought

Of Love, or Knowledge, or at best

Such labour as gives zest

To the great joy of living.

SIR LEWIS MORRIS, The Ode of Life: The Ode of Childhood, Pt. I.,

Young seaman, soldier, student, toiler at the plough,

Or loom, or forge, or mine, a kingly growth art thou!
Where'er thou art, though earthy oft and coarse,
Thou bearest with thee hidden springs of force.

ll. 41-5.

SIR LEWIS MORRIS, The Ode of Life: The Ode of Youth, Pt. I.,

What guesses the rosebud, glowing

In light, and odour, and dew,

Of the rose of the wind's despoiling,
Lamenting the summer through?

ll. 100-103.

WILLIAM SAWYER, At the Opera-" Faust," st. 6 [in Songs of
Society, ed. W. Davenport Adams].

I was young, and I thought myself old;

A fool, and conceited me wise;

I ran my crude thoughts in a mould

That shaped the crude thoughts into lies,

With a kind of Byronic belief

In a world full of baseness and grief.

WALTER C. SMITH, Hilda; Among the Broken Gods: Winifred

Urquhart, st. 10.

586

YUCCA-ZEPHYR

They do their Maker wrong
Who in the pride of age
Cry down youth's heritage,
And all the eager throng

Of thoughts and plans and schemes
With which the young brain teems.

C. W. STUBBS, The Conscience: A Prayer of Age, ll. 1-6.

Young and lovely keep no measure.
Mint of youth is current treasure,

Age but dross and scorn.

LORD DE TABLEY, Poems Dramatic and Lyrical: Aurora, ̧st. 2.

Youth is a tree whose leaves fall light as sand.

LORD DE TABLEY, Poems Dramatic and Lyrical: Love Grown Old,

Ah, what shall I be at fifty
Should Nature keep me alive,
If I find the world so bitter

When I am but twenty-five?

st. 2.

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, Maud, Pt. I., VI., st. 5.

Youth loves to mock the fashions of the old.

Yucca.

FREDERICK TENNYSON, Isles of Greece: Apollo, l. 358.

My yucca, which no winter quells,

Altho' the months have scarce begun,

Has push'd toward our faintest sun

A spike of half-accomplish'd bells

Zebra.

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, To Ulysses, st. 6.

Marvellous steeds

Striped as a melon is, all black and white.

Flanks, muzzles, necks, and hams, pencilled and pied

Like a silk cloth of Saïs.

SIR EDWIN ARNOLD, The Voyage of Ithobal: The Third Day,

Zephyr. See also West Wind.

Was it the Zephyr whisp'ring

Lingering, whispering o'er and o'er,

Or the echo from a far land

Of bliss gone, gone for evermore!

ll. 260-3.

ARISTO," The Moon of Leaves: Love's Illusions, st. 2.

as sweet

As the rose-scented zephyr those do meet

Who near the happy islands of the blest.

WILLIAM MORRIS, Life and Death of Jason, bk. XII., II. 99–101.

THE END.

INDEX