The Princess: A Medley

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Edward Moxon, 1848 - 1848 - 164 pages

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Page 152 - To glide a sunheam by the blasted Pine, To sit a star upon the sparkling spire ; And come, for Love is of the valley, come, For Love is of the valley, come thou down And find him...
Page 153 - To roll the torrent out of dusky doors : But follow; let the torrent dance thee down To find him in the valley; let the wild Lean-headed Eagles yelp alone, and leave The monstrous ledges there to slope, and spill Their thousand wreaths of dangling water-smoke, That like a broken purpose waste in air : So waste not thou ; but come ; for all the vales Await thee; azure pillars of the hearth Arise to thee ; the children call, and I Thy shepherd pipe, and sweet is every sound, Sweeter thy voice, but...
Page 70 - O tell her, Swallow, that thy brood is flown: Say to her, I do but wanton in the South, But in the North long since my nest is made. O tell her, brief is life but love is long And brief the sun of summer in the North And brief the moon of beauty in the South. O Swallow, flying from the golden woods Fly to her, and pipe and woo her, and make her mine. And tell her, tell her, that I follow thee.
Page 66 - Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.
Page 67 - Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Page 67 - Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds To dying ears, when unto dying eyes The casement slowly grows a glimmering square; So sad, so strange, the days that are no more. Dear as remember'd kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more!
Page 23 - One voice, we cried; and I sat down and wrote, In such a hand as when a field of corn Bows all its ears before the roaring East; 'Three ladies of the Northern empire pray Your Highness would enroll them with your own, As Lady Psyche's pupils.
Page 17 - Proud look'd the lips : but while I meditated A wind arose and rush'd upon the South, And shook the songs, the whispers, and the shrieks Of the wild woods together ; and a Voice Went with it, ' Follow, follow, thou shall win." Then, ere the silver sickle of that month Became her golden shield, I stole from court With Cyril and with Florian, unperceived, Cat-footed thro...
Page 156 - For woman is not undevelopt man, . But diverse : could we make her as the man, Sweet Love were slain: his dearest bond is this, Not like to like, but like in difference. Yet in the long years liker must they grow; The man be more of woman, she of man; He gain in sweetness and in moral height, Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world; She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care...
Page 4 - Arranged a country dance, and flew thro' light And shadow , while the (wangling violin Struck up with Soldier-laddie, and overhead The broad ambrosial aisles of lofty lime Made noise with bees and breeze from end to end.

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