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She chants a poem, and then returns to her husband Manannán, who shakes his magical cloak of mists between Fand and Cúchulainn, that they may never meet again.
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She and chants
She chants " I was, I am, I am to come " repeatedly and wildly over a percussive backing.
She intensely dislikes witches such as Letice Earwig, who dabble in chants, pendants, and crystals.
She chants a spell and escapes with her life.
She was very intelligent, lived out the Dao through chants, poems, and practicing calligraphy, and she was devoted to the rites and rules of propriety.
She chants in Latin eight times a day.
She chants nursery rhymes, which put off his amorous advances.
She pours blood onto his shirt ; the cloaked man then steps out of the shadows and chants a spell ; lights flash and Angel yells as his soul is taken away.
She opposed the 1981 Springbok tour, and an attempt to ban Hare Krishna from performing chants on Queen Street.
She and poem
She was the pursuer as clearly as was Venus in Shakespeare's poem.
She is the subject of a poem ( Peregrine White and Virginia Dare ) by Rosemary and Stephen Vincent Benet, and the North Carolina Legend of the White Doe.
She was portrayed as Belphoebe or Astraea, and after the Armada, as Gloriana, the eternally youthful Faerie Queene of Edmund Spenser's poem.
She is a figure of imaginary power within the poem who can inspire within the narrator his own ability to craft poetry.
She is also mentioned in the poem Appius and Virginia by John Webster and Thomas Heywood, which includes the following lines:
She appears in the following verse from the Poetic Edda poem Völuspá, along with Urðr and Skuld:
She read a free verse poem calling for peace in the world.
She writes in a poem about her own style that " lucid and transparent / are my images ".
At 17 years old, in his journal Sirius, she published her first poem which could be translated as On his hand are many shiny rings, ( 1907 ) signing it ‘ Anna G .’ She soon became known in St Petersburg's artistic circles, regularly giving public readings.
( She noted that Song of the Last Meeting, dated 29 September 1911, was her 200th poem ).
She tells how Akhmatova would write out her poem for a visitor on a scrap of paper to be read in a moment, then burnt in her stove.
She was also invoked at the beginning of a lost poem, Rhadine (), that was referred to and briefly quoted by Strabo.
She also helped to create a poem to include the Wiccan Rede within it.
" She wrote a poem entitled The Martyrdom of St. Cyprian in two books, of which 800 lines survived, and an inscription of a poem on the baths at Hammat Gader.
She wrote an epic poem combining her classical Athens educational background by doing a Homeric centos, but adding stories from the book of Genesis and the New Testament stories of the life of Jesus Christ.
She ensured the posthumous publication of his final volume of poetry, The Far Field, which includes the poem " Meditation at Oyster River.
She began writing at an early age, publishing her first poem at the age of ten and compiling a collection of poetry at 15.
Humanities scholar Camille Paglia speculated that the song's lyrics might have been partly inspired by William Blake's poem " The Mental Traveller ": " She binds iron thorns around his head / And pierces both his hands and feet / And cuts his heart out of his side / To make it feel both cold & heat.
She performed T. S. Eliot's poem The Waste Land as a one-person show at the Liberty Theatre in New York to great acclaim in 1996, winning the Drama Desk Award for Outstanding One-Person Show for her performance.
She developed a love of poetry at a young age, after discovering a poem by Tennyson on a scrap of newspaper that had been used to wrap a pat of butter ; this discovery was one of Siddall's inspirations to start writing her own poetry.
She amassed a devoted readership and attempted to begin each column with a poem.
She was the subject of an Irish poem, of which an English version was written by James Mangan from a prose translation by Eugene O ' Curry.
She wrote Scissorhands as a " love poem " to Burton, calling him " the most articulate person I know, but couldn't put a single sentence together ".
She and then
She rubbed her eyes and stretched, then sat up, her hands going to her hair.
She helped him with the dishes, then he brought more water in from the spring before it got dark.
She was carrying a quirt, and she started to raise it, then let it fall again and dangle from her wrist.
She saw it then, the distant derrick of the wildcat -- a test well in unexplored country.
She stood up, pulled the coat from her shoulders and started to slide it off, then let out a high-pitched scream and I let out a low-pitched, wobbling sound like a muffler blowing out.
`` She didn't really say '' -- She glanced away at the floor, then swooped gracefully and picked up one of Scotty's slippers.
She just about made me carry her upstairs and then she clung to me and wouldn't let me go.
She had surprised Hans like she had surprised me when she said she'd go, and then she surprised him again when she came back so quick like she must have, because when I came in with the snow she was there with a bottle with three white feathers on its label and Hans was holding it angrily by the throat.
She went into the living room and turned on three lamps, then back into the kitchen where she turned on the ceiling light and the switch that lit the floods on the barn, illuminating the driveway.
She then went over them thoroughly giving each a strenuous test in showmanship.
She was then trained on the trot until December 29, hitched to a breaking cart once around the half-mile track and hoppled again.
She patronized Greenwich Village artists for awhile, then put some money into a Broadway show which was successful ( terrible, but successful ).
She then described her experience as one in which she first had difficulty accepting for herself a state of being in which she relinquished control.
She retreated by leaving the room when we suggested that our meeting might well terminate right then and there.
She was the John Harvey, one of those Atlantic sea-horses that had sailed to Bari to bring beans, bombs, and bullets to the U.S. Fifteenth Air Force, to Field Marshal Montgomery's Eighth Army then racing up the calf of the boot of Italy in that early December of 1943.
She was Mary Lou Brew then, wide-eyed, but not naive.
She worked as a domestic, first in Newport for a year, and then in South Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, for another year.
She had assumed before then that one day he would ask her to marry him.
She was thirty-one years old then.
She walked restlessly across the room, then back to the windows.
She smoothed the skirt, sat down, then stood up and went back to the windows.
She made a face at him and then she laughed.
She threw back a cushion over one of the seats, unlocked a padlock on the chest beneath it, then presently straightened, holding a long knife and a wicked looking spear gun in her hand.
She took postgraduate work at the University of Grenoble in France and then returned to London to work on market research with an advertising firm.
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