The Gallery of Pigeons: And Other PoemsHenry S. King, 1873 - 198 páginas |
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Términos y frases comunes
a-down afar angel azaleas beautiful soul beauty birds blossom blue bosom boughs breath calm clear cloud clove cold cream creep crimson crystal light dead deep Dowsabel Dowsabella dream'd dreams eyes fain fair fancy feet flame fleur-de-lis flowers flutter fresh fruit glib gold golden golden sun green grey grove hair hand head heart heaven hyüeèps kiss kiss'd lady lady sleeps light limbs lips look'd loriot lounge lover lute madrigals mandoline Mefears merry mignonette moon moonlight myrrh never nigher night nightingales noon o'er pets pipe plop Pomegranate pretties purple rill ring-doves ripe river rose rose-bud rosy round seem'd shade shake shimmering shrieks shrill sigh sight silver sing sleep slumbering soft song soul stars strange sweep sweet swoon tall thee thick thick set thou thro thrush toy'd trees trembling trills Twas twinkling violet wander wind wings writhe Zounds
Pasajes populares
Página 157 - TRAGEDY SHE was only a woman, famished for loving, Mad with devotion, and such slight things; And he was a very great musician, And used to finger his fiddle-strings. Her heart's sweet gamut is cracking and breaking For a look, for a touch, — for such slight things; But he's such a very great musician Grimacing and fingering his fiddle-strings.
Página 163 - All beck'd and made their bows. Scarlet of the poppy, Yellow of the corn, The men were at the garnering, A-shouting in the morn ; I chased her to a pippin-tree, — The waking birds all whist, — And oh ! it was the sweetest kiss That I have ever kiss'd. Marjorie, mint, and violets A-drying round us set, 'Twas all done in the faience-room A-spicing marmalet ; On one tile was a satyr, On one a nymph at bay, Methinks the birds will scarce be home To wake our wedding-day...
Página 154 - My little love, my lily wan, Of life so weary, weep on me ! Come lay your head, and on, and on, I'll ripple low love- tales to thee! In calm white moonlight sleeps the swan, The reeds are wooing the willow-tree; Asleep and dreaming, on, and on, I'll drift you into the endless sea ! And I was a full-leaved, full-bough'd tree, Tranquil and trembling, and deep in the night, And tall and still, down the garden-ways She moved in the liquid calm moonlight. Her moon-shot eyes, strain'd back with grief,...
Página 161 - SONG. THERE'S one great bunch of stars in heaven That shines so sturdily, Where good Saint Peter's sinewy hand Holds up the dull gold-wroughten key. There's eke a little twinkling gem As green as beryl-blue can be, The lowest bead the Blessed Virgin Shakes a-telling her rosary. There's one that flashes flames and fire, No doubt the mighty rubicel That sparkles from the center point I' the buckler of stout Raphael.
Página 156 - ... And oh ! it was the sweetest kiss That I have ever kiss'd Marjorie, mint, and violets A-drying round us set, 'Twas all done in the faience-room A-spicing marmalet; On one tile was a satyr, On one a nymph at bay, Methinks the birds will scarce be home To wake our wedding-day! SONG I dream'd I was in Sicily, All sky and hills and flowers ; We sat us under a citron tree And courted, hours and hours. I woke by the dunes of a bleak north-land, Along a lonely grave in the snow ; The salt wind rattled...
Página 162 - In cherry symphonies. Whiteness of the white rose, Redness of the red, She went to cut the blush-rose buds To tie at the altar-head; And some she laid in her bosom, And some around her brows, And, as she passed, the lily-heads All becked and made their bows.
Página 87 - Ugh! and I knew! Ugh! So what do I care, And my head is as empty as air — I can do, I can dare, (Plop, plop, The barges flop Drip, drop.) I can dare, I can dare ! And let myself all run away with my head, And stop. Drop Dead. Plop, flop. Plop.
Página 146 - she sung ; Then lustily : " Sweet Death, the comforter! " It chanced that Love, the garden slopes among, Came like the palmer, Death, and look'd at her. The lady swoon'd amid her stiff brocades, And wept amain, though Love laugh'd low and sweet. She call'd on Love, but Love with rapid feet Pass'd...
Página 162 - A PASTORAL FLOWER of the medlar, Crimson of the quince, I saw her at the blossom-time, And loved her ever since! She swept the draughty pleasance, The blooms had left the trees, The whilst the birds sang canticles, In cherry symphonies.
Página 165 - If angels love above in heaven, Then death must be too oversweet, For this dear love thy lips have given, Has made this life, .my love, replete.