Selected Poems

Priekinis viršelis
H. Milford, Oxford University Press, 1924 - 247 psl.

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Populiarios ištraukos

132 psl. - THE ladies of St. James's Go swinging to the play; Their footmen run before them, With a "Stand by! Clear the way!" But Phyllida, my Phyllida! She takes her buckled shoon, When we go out a-courting Beneath the harvest moon. The ladies of St. James's Wear satin on their backs; They sit all night at Ombre, With candles all of wax: But Phyllida, my Phyllida! She dons her russet gown, And runs to gather May dew Before the world is down. The ladies of St. James's! They are so fine and fair, You'd think...
197 psl. - There is place and enough for the pains of prose ; But whenever the May-blood stirs and glows, And the young year draws to the
165 psl. - THE Rose in the garden slipped her bud, And she laughed in the pride of her youthful blood, As she thought of the Gardener standing by — " He is old, — so old ! And he soon must die ! " .The full Rose waxed in the warm June air, And she spread and spread till her heart lay bare ; And she laughed once more as she heard his tread — " He is older now ! He will soon be dead...
107 psl. - HERE, in this leafy place, Quiet he lies, Cold, with his sightless face Turned to the skies ; "Tis but another dead ; All you can say is said. Carry his body hence, — Kings must have slaves ; Kings climb to eminence Over men's graves : So this man's eye is dim ; — Throw the earth over him. What was the white you touched, There, at his side ? Paper his hand had clutched Tight ere he died ;— Message or wish, may be ; — Smooth the folds out and see.
189 psl. - Love comes back to his vacant dwelling — The old, old Love that we knew of yore ! We see him stand by the open door, With his great eyes sad, and his bosom swelling. " He makes as though in our arms repelling He fain would lie, as he lay before ; Love comes back to his vacant dwelling...
241 psl. - O'er-top the stone where I shall lie, Though ill or well the world adjust My slender claim to honoured dust, I shall not question nor reply. I shall not see the morning sky ; I shall not hear the night-wind sigh ; I shall be mute, as all men must In after days ! But yet, now living, fain were I That some one then should testify, Saying— "He held his pen in trust To Art, not serving shame or lust.
195 psl. - To the kirtles whereof he would tack us; With his saints and his gilded stern-frames, He had thought like an egg-shell to crack us; Now Howard may get to his Flaccus, And Drake to his Devon again, And Hawkins bowl rubbers to Bacchus, — For where are the galleons of Spain? Let his Majesty hang to St. James...
112 psl. - A SONG OF THE FOUR SEASONS. WHEN Spring comes laughing By vale and hill, By wind-flower walking And daffodil, — Sing stars of morning, Sing morning skies, Sing blue of speedwell, — And my Love's eyes. When comes the Summer, Full-leaved and strong, And gay birds gossip The orchard long,— Sing hid, sweet honey That no bee sips ; Sing red, red roses, — And my Love's lips.
61 psl. - FRANK. No, — I remain. To stay and fight a duel Seems, on the whole, the proper thing to do ; — Ah, you are strong, — I would not then be cruel, If I were you ! NELLIE.
5 psl. - Only till Sunday next, and then you'll wait Behind the White-Thorn, by the broken Stile — We can go round and catch them at the Gate, All to Ourselves, for nearly one long Mile; Dear Prue won't look, and Father he'll go on, And Sam's two Eyes are all for Cissy, John!

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