The Story of Rosina, and Other Verses

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K. Paul, Trench, Trübner, & Company, 1895 - 120 psl.
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46 psl. - read " three hours. Both notes and text Were fast a mist becoming ; In bounced a vagrant bee, perplexed, And filled the room with humming, Then out. The casement's leafage sways, And, parted light, discloses Miss Di., with hat and book, — a maze Of muslin mixed with roses. " You're reading Greek?" " I am — and you?" " O, mine's a mere romancer ! "
61 psl. - I PLUNGE my hand among the leaves : (An alien touch but dust perceives, Nought else supposes ;) For me those fragrant ruins raise Clear memory of the vanished days When they were roses. " If youth but knew !" Ah, " if," in truth— I can recall with what gay youth, To what light chorus, Unsobered yet by time or change, We roamed the many-gabled Grange, All life before us ; Braved the old clock-tower's dust and damp To catch the dim Arthurian camp In misty distance ; Peered at the still-room's sacred...
46 psl. - " I am— and you ? " " O, mine's a mere romancer ! " "So Plato is." '• Then read him— do ; And I'll read mine in answer." I read. " My Plato (Plato, too, — That wisdom thus should harden !) Declares ' blue eyes look doubly blue Beneath a Dolly Varden.
88 psl. - And a pinch from the Cure's box. There is also a word that no one heard To the furrier's daughter Lou; And a pale cheek fed with a flickering red, And a "Bon Dieu garde M'sieu .'" But a grander way for the Sous-Pre"fet, And a bow for Ma'am'selle Anne; And a mock "off-hat...
46 psl. - For Socrates (I find he too is talking) Thinks Learning can't remain at ease While Beauty goes a-walking." She read no more. I leapt the sill : The sequel's scarce essential — Nay, more than this, I hold it still Profoundly confidential.
87 psl. - And a bow for Ma'am'selle Anne ; And a mock " off-hat " to the Notary's cat, And a nod to the Sacristan : — For ever through life the Cure goes With a smile on his kind old face — With his coat worn bare, and his straggling hair And his green umbrella-case.
71 psl. - T^IS an old dial, dark with many a stain ; -*- In summer crowned with drifting orchard bloom, Tricked in the autumn with the yellow rain, And white in winter like a marble tomb...
73 psl. - ... tendril-curls the sunlight shone; And round her train the tiger-lilies swayed, Like courtiers bowing till the queen be gone. She leaned upon the slab a little while, Then drew a jewelled pencil from her zone, Scribbled a something with a frolic smile, Folded, inscribed, and niched it in the stone. The shade slipped on, no swifter than the snail: There came a second lady to the place, Dove-eyed, dove-robed, and something wan and pale— An inner beauty shining from her face.
88 psl. - As she knits in her dusky stall. There's a letter to drop at the locksmith's shop, And Toto, the locksmith's niece, Has jubilant hopes, for the Cure gropes In his tails for a pain d'epice.
36 psl. - Mine's a musician, — musical at heart, — Throbs to the gathered grieving of Beethoven, Sways to the light coquetting of Mozart. FRANK. Best ? You should hear mine trilling out a ballad, Queen at a pic-nic, leader of the glees, Not too divine to toss you up a salad, Great in Sir Roger danced among the trees.

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