Identifier: yellowoct189507uoft (find matches)
Title: The yellow book : an illustrated quarterly
Year: 1895 (1890s)
Authors: Beardsley, Aubrey, 1872-1898 Harland, Henry, 1861-1905
Subjects: English literature -- 19th century Great Britain -- Periodicals
Publisher: London : E. Mathews & J. Lane Boston : Copeland & Day
Contributing Library: Ryerson University

View Book Page: Book Viewer
About This Book: Catalog Entry
View All Images: All Images From Book
Click here to view book online to see this illustration in context in a browseable online version of this book.

Text Appearing Before Image:
gardeners saw that the lily-beds were full of flowers more beautiful than had ever been seenbefore. But when the thieves brought their stolen flowers to theChurch of San Luigi in the Via Carolina they were nothingbut sticks and dirty weeds. And the three saints are most friendly together now, because San 224 Stories Toto Told Me San Sebastiano and San Pancrazio cannot help admiring San Luigifor his strange innocence, as well as for the strange penance withwhich he gained his place in heaven; and they are always delightedto do anything to oblige him, because they have been longer therethan he has and understand the ways of that blessed place so well;while San Luigi carries only the lilies of Paradise now, and isnever so happy as when he is choosing the best branches ofgolden palm for his two martyr-friends ; nor is he ever shockedat San Pancrazio because he is of a gay heart, nor at San Sebastianobecause he is naked and not ashamed.How could he be ashamed, sir ? Fair Play By Fred Hall
Text Appearing After Image:
Two Songs By Prances Nicholson I—Ophelia OH, tender night !Lay my head on thy lap and dull me With deep-drugged breathOf sweet-lipped violet Or heavy woodbine wreath,That I may soon forgetHow hope no more may lull meTo dreams of light. Oh, pitying earth !Bid thy far-wandering streamlets tell me Some place of restNeath sedgy banks that yet With yellow buds are drest,That I may soon forgetSuch sorrow erst befell me In true loves dearth. In • 3° Two Songs II—Before The Daw n IN the weird stillness just before the dawnLow sang the waves, like murmuring tones that bless,Along the far, dim shore, by cape and ness,And furtive winds blew soft across the lawn,Touching with spirit-lips in faint caressThe virgin-lilies, white and motionless,In the weird stillness just before the dawn. Was it a dream, or did you really come Twixt the wan glimmer of my casement, whereThe sweet wind followed you ? Did I not hear Your low voice, passion-thrilled, I, speechless, dumb?While in the tender gloom,

Note About Images