FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   69   70   71   72   73   74   75   76   77   78   79   80   81   82   83   84   85   86   87   88   89   90   91   92   93  
94   95   96   97   98   99   100   101   102   103   104   105   106   107   108   109   110   111   112   113   114   115   116   117   118   >>   >|  
spine: Her skin was like a grape, whose veins Run snow instead of wine. She knew not those sweet words she spake. Nor knew her own sweet way; But there's never a bird, so sweet a song Thronged in whose throat that day! Oh, there were flowers in Storrington On the turf and on the sprays; But the sweetest flower on Sussex hills Was the Daisy-flower that day! Her beauty smoothed earth's furrowed face! She gave me tokens three:-- A look, a word of her winsome mouth, And a wild raspberry. A berry red, a guileless look, A still word,--strings of sand! And yet they made my wild, wild heart Fly down to her little hand. For standing artless as the air, And candid as the skies, She took the berries with her hand, And the love with her sweet eyes. The fairest things have fleetest end: Their scent survives their close, But the rose's scent is bitterness To him that loved the rose! She looked a little wistfully, Then went her sunshine way:-- The sea's eye had a mist on it, And the leaves fell from the day. She went her unremembering way, She went and left in me The pang of all the partings gone, And partings yet to be. She left me marvelling why my soul Was sad that she was glad; At all the sadness in the sweet, The sweetness in the sad. Still, still I seemed to see her, still Look up with soft replies, And take the berries with her hand, And the love with her lovely eyes. Nothing begins, and nothing ends, That is not paid with moan; For we are born in others' pain, And perish in our own. FRANCIS THOMPSON. SONG OF EGLA. Day, in melting purple dying; Blossoms, all around me sighing; Fragrance, from the lilies straying; Zephyr, with my ringlets playing; Ye but waken my distress; I am sick of loneliness! Thou, to whom I love to hearken, Come, ere night around me darken; Though thy softness but deceive me, Say thou'rt true, and I'll believe thee; Veil, if ill, thy soul's intent, Let me think it innocent! Save thy toiling, spare thy treasure; All I ask is friendship's pleasure; Let the shining ore lie darkling,-- Bring no gem in lustre sparkling; Gifts and gold are naught to me, I would only look on thee! Tell to thee the high-wrought feeling, Ecstasy but in revealing; Paint to thee the deep sensation, Rapture in participation; Yet but torture, if comprest In a lone, unfriended breast. Absent still!
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   69   70   71   72   73   74   75   76   77   78   79   80   81   82   83   84   85   86   87   88   89   90   91   92   93  
94   95   96   97   98   99   100   101   102   103   104   105   106   107   108   109   110   111   112   113   114   115   116   117   118   >>   >|  



Top keywords:
partings
 

berries

 

flower

 

loneliness

 

hearken

 
distress
 
Though
 

deceive

 
softness
 

darken


playing

 

THOMPSON

 
FRANCIS
 

perish

 
melting
 

straying

 
lilies
 
Zephyr
 

ringlets

 

Fragrance


sighing

 

purple

 

Blossoms

 

wrought

 

feeling

 

Ecstasy

 

revealing

 

naught

 

unfriended

 

breast


Absent

 
comprest
 

torture

 

sensation

 

Rapture

 
participation
 

sparkling

 
lustre
 

innocent

 
toiling

intent
 

treasure

 
darkling
 
friendship
 

pleasure

 

shining

 
begins
 

Thronged

 
throat
 

standing