MAESE PEREZ, THE ORGANIST
By Gustavo Adolfo Becquer From “Modern Ghosts.” Translated by Rollo Ogden. I. “Do you see…
WITHERED LEAVES
GUSTAVO ADOLFO BECQUER THE sun had set. The wheeling masses of cloud were hastening to heap…
THREE DATES
GUSTAVO ADOLFO BECQUER IN a portfolio which I still treasure, full of idle drawings made…
BELIEVE IN GOD
GUSTAVO ADOLFO BECQUER A Provençal Ballad. “I was the true Teobaldo de Montagut, Baron of…
THE PASSION ROSE
GUSTAVO ADOLFO BECQUER ONE summer afternoon, in a garden of Toledo, this curious tale was…
THE WHITE DOE
GUSTAVO ADOLFO BECQUER IN a small town of Aragon, about the end of the thirteenth…
THE SPIRITS’ MOUNTAIN
GUSTAVO ADOLFO BECQUER ON All Souls’ Night I was awakened, I knew not at what…
THE SET OF EMERALDS
GUSTAVO ADOLFO BECQUER WE were pausing on the Street of San Jerónimo, in front of…
THE RAY OF MOONSHINE
GUSTAVO ADOLFO BECQUER I DO not know whether this is history which seems like a…
THE PROMISE
GUSTAVO ADOLFO BECQUER I. Margarita, her face hidden in her hands, was weeping; she did…