Skip to the end of the images gallery Navigation umschalten
Skip to the beginning of the images gallery Navigation umschalten
Only a Girl's Love
ePUB
648,3 KB
DRM: Wasserzeichen
ISBN-13: 9783750424197
Verlag: Books on Demand
Erscheinungsdatum: 28.11.2019
Sprache: Englisch
2,99 €
inkl. MwSt.
sofort verfügbar als Download
Bitte beachten Sie, dass Sie dieses E-Book nicht auf einem Amazon Kindle lesen können, sondern ausschließlich auf Geräten mit einer Software, die epub-Dateien anzeigen kann. Mehr Informationen
Ihr eigenes Buch!
Werden Sie Autor*in mit BoD und erfüllen Sie sich den Traum vom eigenen Buch und E-Book.
Mehr erfahrenIt is a warm evening in early Summer; the sun is setting behind a long range of fir and yew-clad hills, at the feet of which twists in and out, as it follows their curves, a placid, peaceful river. Opposite these hills, and running beside the river, are long-stretching meadows, brilliantly green with fresh-springing grass, and gorgeously yellow with newly-opened buttercups. Above, the sunset sky gleams and glows with fiery red and rich deep chromes. And London is almost within sight.
It is a beautiful scene, such as one sees only in this England of ours-a scene that defies poet and painter. At this very moment it is defying one of the latter genus; for in a room of a low-browed, thatched-roofed cottage which stood on the margin of the meadow, James Etheridge sat beside his easel, his eyes fixed on the picture framed in the open window, his brush and mahl-stick drooping in his idle hand.
Unconsciously he, the painter, made a picture worthy of study. Tall, thin, delicately made, with pale face crowned and set in softly-flowing white hair, with gentle, dreamy eyes ever seeking the infinite and unknown, he looked like one of those figures which the old Florentine artists used to love to put upon their canvases, and which when one sees even now makes one strangely sad and thoughtful.
It is a beautiful scene, such as one sees only in this England of ours-a scene that defies poet and painter. At this very moment it is defying one of the latter genus; for in a room of a low-browed, thatched-roofed cottage which stood on the margin of the meadow, James Etheridge sat beside his easel, his eyes fixed on the picture framed in the open window, his brush and mahl-stick drooping in his idle hand.
Unconsciously he, the painter, made a picture worthy of study. Tall, thin, delicately made, with pale face crowned and set in softly-flowing white hair, with gentle, dreamy eyes ever seeking the infinite and unknown, he looked like one of those figures which the old Florentine artists used to love to put upon their canvases, and which when one sees even now makes one strangely sad and thoughtful.
Eigene Bewertung schreiben
Es sind momentan noch keine Pressestimmen vorhanden.