Poems

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Edward Moxon & Company, 1868 - English poetry - 379 pages
 

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Page 269 - In the Spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's breast ; In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest ; In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove; In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.
Page 11 - He cometh not,' she said ; She said, ' I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead...
Page 271 - Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.
Page 267 - Of all the western stars, until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down: It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Page 283 - Not in vain the distance beacons. Forward, forward let us range, Let the great world spin forever down the ringing grooves of change. Thro...
Page 279 - With the standards of the peoples plunging thro' the thunder-storm ; Till the war-drum throbb'd no longer, and the battleflags were furl'd In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world. There the common sense of most shall hold a fretful realm in awe, And the kindly earth shall slumber, lapt in universal law.
Page 68 - For often thro' the silent nights A funeral, with plumes and lights, And music, went to Camelot : Or when the moon was overhead, Came two young lovers lately wed ; " I am half sick of shadows,
Page 194 - What harm, undone? deep harm to disobey, Seeing obedience is the bond of rule. Were it well to obey then, if a king demand An act unprofitable, against himself ? The King is sick, and knows not what he does.
Page 142 - In the afternoon they came unto a land In which it seemed always afternoon. All round the coast the languid air did swoon, Breathing like one that hath a weary dream. Full-faced above the valley stood the moon ; And, like a downward smoke, the slender stream Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem.
Page 66 - Skimming down to Camelot. But who hath seen her wave her hand? Or at the casement seen her stand? Or is she known in all the land, The Lady of Shalott? Only reapers, reaping early In among the bearded barley, Hear a song that echoes cheerly From the river winding clearly, Down to tower'd Camelot: And by the moon the reaper weary Piling sheaves in uplands airy, Listening, whispers " 'Tis the fairy Lady of Shalott.

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