PoemsH. S. King, 1876 - 212 páginas |
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Página 15
... fields , All night the stars had pricked you to desire , The imminent joy at its full season flowered , There was a consummation , the broad wave Toppled and fell . And had ye voice for this ? Sufficient song to unburden the urged ...
... fields , All night the stars had pricked you to desire , The imminent joy at its full season flowered , There was a consummation , the broad wave Toppled and fell . And had ye voice for this ? Sufficient song to unburden the urged ...
Página 23
... fields , whence the June mowers strolled Homewards with girls who chatted down the lane . Is this the secret lying round the world ? A Dread One watching with unlidded eye Slow century after century from his heaven , And that great lord ...
... fields , whence the June mowers strolled Homewards with girls who chatted down the lane . Is this the secret lying round the world ? A Dread One watching with unlidded eye Slow century after century from his heaven , And that great lord ...
Página 37
... fields like blight . Ah , why so swift despair ! There yet will be Warm noons , the honey'd leavings of the year , Hours of rich musing , ripest autumn's core , And late - heaped fruit , and falling hedge - berry , Blossoms in cottage ...
... fields like blight . Ah , why so swift despair ! There yet will be Warm noons , the honey'd leavings of the year , Hours of rich musing , ripest autumn's core , And late - heaped fruit , and falling hedge - berry , Blossoms in cottage ...
Página 69
... , who would give all , Only the memory of me growing faint Until I seem a thing incredible , Some high , sweet dream , which was not , nor could be . Aye , and in idle fields of asphodel Must it THE HEROINES . 69 Eurydice,
... , who would give all , Only the memory of me growing faint Until I seem a thing incredible , Some high , sweet dream , which was not , nor could be . Aye , and in idle fields of asphodel Must it THE HEROINES . 69 Eurydice,
Página 70
Edward Dowden. Aye , and in idle fields of asphodel Must it not be that I shall fade indeed , No memory of me , but myself ; these hands Ceasing from mastery and use , my thoughts Losing distinction in the vague , sweet air , The heart's ...
Edward Dowden. Aye , and in idle fields of asphodel Must it not be that I shall fade indeed , No memory of me , but myself ; these hands Ceasing from mastery and use , my thoughts Losing distinction in the vague , sweet air , The heart's ...
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