Early Sonnets, Juvenilia, and English Idylls

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T.Y. Crowell & Company, 1892 - 289 Seiten
 

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Seite 36 - In the white curtain, to and fro, She saw the gusty shadow sway. But when the moon was very low, And wild winds bound within their cell, The shadow of the poplar fell Upon her bed, across her brow. She only said, ' The night is dreary, He cometh not...
Seite 59 - A SPIRIT haunts the year's last hours Dwelling amid these yellowing bowers : To himself he talks; For at eventide, listening earnestly, At his work you may hear him sob and sigh In the walks; Earthward he boweth the heavy stalks Of the mouldering flowers : Heavily hangs the broad sunflower Over its grave i' the earth so chilly; Heavily hangs the hollyhock, Heavily hangs the tiger-lily.
Seite 182 - Howe'er it be, it seems to me, Tis only noble to be good. Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood.
Seite 185 - And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as they pass ; There will not be a drop of rain the whole of the livelong day, And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, Fm to be Queen o
Seite 178 - She, mouldering with the dull earth's mouldering sod, Inwrapt tenfold in slothful shame, Lay there exiled from eternal God, Lost to her place and name ; And death and life she hated equally And nothing saw, for her despair, But dreadful time, dreadful eternity, No comfort anywhere...
Seite 122 - A gleaming shape she floated by, Dead-pale between the houses high, Silent into Camelot. Out upon the wharfs they came, Knight and burgher, lord and dame, And round the prow they read her name, The Lady of Shalotl.
Seite 120 - Tirra lirra," by the river Sang Sir Lancelot. She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces thro' the room, She saw the water-lily bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume, She look'd down to Camelot.
Seite 200 - To dream and dream, like yonder amber light, Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height ; To hear each other's whisper'd speech ; Eating the Lotos day by day, To watch the crisping ripples on the beach, And tender curving lines of creamy spray...
Seite 188 - There's not a flower on all the hills : the frost is on the pane : I only wish to live till the snowdrops come again : I wish the snow would melt and the sun come out on high: I long to see a flower so before the day I die. The building rook 'ill caw from the windy tall elm-tree, And the tufted plover pipe along the fallow lea, And the swallow 'ill come back again with summer o'er the wave, But I shall lie alone, mother, within the mouldering grave. Upon the chancel-casement, and upon that grave...
Seite 174 - Throb thro' the ribbed stone ; Singing and murmuring in her feastful mirth, Joying to feel herself alive, Lord over Nature, Lord of the visible earth, Lord of the senses five ; Communing with herself : " All these are mine, And let the world have peace or wars, "Pis one to me.

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