Poems, Volume 2

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Longmans Green, and Company, 1867 - 258 pages
 

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Page 156 - Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling, "For the dews will soone be falling; Leave your meadow grasses mellow, Mellow, mellow; Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow; Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot; Quit the stalks of parsley hollow, Hollow, hollow; Come uppe Jetty, rise and follow, From the clovers lift your head ; Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot, Come uppe Jetty, rise and follow, Jetty, to the milking shed.
Page 162 - So farre, so fast the eygre drave, The heart had hardly time to beat, Before a shallow seething wave Sobbed in the grasses at oure feet. The feet had hardly time to flee Before it brake against the knee, And all the world was in the sea.
Page 158 - Then some looked uppe into the sky, And all along where Lindis flows To where the goodly vessels lie, And where the lordly steeple shows. They sayde, " And why should this thing be, What danger lowers by land or sea ? They ring the tune of Enderby...
Page 153 - THE old mayor climbed the belfry tower, The ringers ran by two, by three ; ' Pull, if ye never pulled before ; Good ringers, pull your best,' quoth he. ' Play uppe, play uppe, O Boston bells ! Ply all your changes, all your swells, Play uppe
Page 178 - They are only one times one. 0 moon ! in the night I have seen you sailing And shining so round and low ; You were bright ! ah, bright ! but your light is failing, — You are nothing now but a bow. You moon, have you done something wrong in heaven That God has hidden your face? I hope if you have you will soon be forgiven, And shine again in your place.
Page 52 - O my lost love, and my own, own love, And my love that loved me so ! Is there never a chink in the world above Where they listen for words from below ? Nay, I spoke once, and I grieved thee sore, I remember all that I said, And now thou wilt hear me no more — no more Till the sea gives up her dead.
Page 192 - I pray you, what is the nest to me, My empty nest? And what is the shore where I stood to see My boat sail down to the west ? Can I call that home where I anchor yet, Though my good man has sailed ? Can I call that home where my nest was set, Now all its hope hath failed ? Nay, but the port where my sailor went, And the land where my nestlings be : There is the home where my thoughts are sent, The only home for me — Ah me ! A COTTAGE IN A CHINE.
Page 155 - I sat and spun within the doore, My thread brake off, I raised myne eyes; The level sun, like ruddy ore, Lay sinking in the barren skies; And dark against day's golden death She moved where Lindis wandereth, My sonne's faire wife, Elizabeth. 'Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!' calling, Ere the early dews were falling, Farre away I heard her song. 'Cusha! Cusha!
Page 160 - The olde sea wall" (he cried) "is downe, The rising tide comes on apace, And boats adrift in yonder towne Go sailing uppe the market-place.
Page 163 - And didst thou visit him no more? Thou didst, thou didst, my daughter deare; The waters laid thee at his doore, Ere yet the early dawn was clear. Thy pretty bairns in fast embrace, The lifted sun shone on thy face, Downe drifted to thy dwelling-place.

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