Poems, Volumes 1-2

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Roberts, 1888 - 208 pages

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Page 75 - Will the day's journey take the whole long day? From morn to night, my friend. But is there for the night a resting-place? A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. May not the darkness hide it from my face? You cannot miss that inn.
Page 11 - Yet not to share. She night and morning Caught the goblins' cry: 'Come buy our orchard fruits, Come buy, come buy:' Beside the brook, along the glen, She heard the tramp of goblin men, The voice and stir Poor Laura could not hear; Longed to buy fruit to comfort her, But feared to pay too dear.
Page 74 - DOES the road wind up-hill all the way ? Yes, to the very end.
Page 36 - Only remember me; you understand It will be late to counsel then or pray. Yet if you should forget me for a while And afterwards remember, do not grieve: For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smile Than that...
Page 23 - She cannot see the grain Ripening on hill and plain; She cannot feel the rain Upon her hand. Rest, rest, for evermore Upon a mossy shore; Rest, rest at the heart's core Till time shall cease : Sleep that no pain shall wake, Night that no morn shall break Till joy shall overtake Her perfect peace.
Page 65 - When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet: And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget.
Page 8 - Fresh on their mother twigs, Cherries worth getting; You cannot think what figs My teeth have met in, What melons icy-cold Piled on a dish of gold Too huge for me to hold, What peaches with a velvet nap, Pellucid grapes without one seed: Odorous indeed must be the mead Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they drink, With lilies at the brink, And sugar- sweet their sap.
Page 135 - Too late for love, too late for joy, Too late, too late ! You loitered on the road too long, You trifled at the gate : The enchanted dove upon her branch Died without a mate ; The enchanted princess in her tower Slept, died, behind the grate ; Her heart was starving all this while You made it wait.
Page 10 - But peering thro' the dimness, nought discerning, Trudged home, her pitcher dripping all the way; So crept to bed, and lay Silent till Lizzie slept; Then sat up in a passionate yearning, And gnashed her teeth for baulked desire, and wept As if her heart would break. Day after day, night after night, Laura kept watch in vain In sullen silence of exceeding pain.
Page 94 - BY day she woos me, soft, exceeding fair : But all night as the moon so changeth she ; Loathsome and foul with hideous leprosy And subtle serpents gliding in her hair.

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