Poems (Google eBook)

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F.S. Ellis, 1871 - 282 pages
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Page 168 - I shall not return, even to the land of darkness and the shadow of death; a land of darkness, as darkness itself, and of the shadow of death, without any order and where the light is as darkness.
Page 6 - Herself shall bring us, hand in hand, To Him round whom all souls Kneel, the clear-ranged unnumbered heads Bowed with their aureoles; And angels meeting us shall sing To their citherns and citoles.
Page 2 - The wonder was not yet quite gone From that still look of hers ; Albeit, to them she left, her day Had counted as ten years.
Page 175 - He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone, At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone.
Page 4 - Her gaze still strove Within the gulf to pierce Its path; and now she spoke as when The stars sang in their spheres. The sun was gone now; the curled moon Was like a little feather Fluttering far down the gulf; and now She spoke through the still weather. Her voice was like the voice the stars Had when they sang together.
Page 7 - There will I ask of Christ the Lord Thus much for him and me: Only to live as once on earth With Love, only to be, As then awhile, for ever now Together, I and he.' She gazed and listened and then said, Less sad of speech than mild, 'All this is when he comes.
Page 6 - will seek the groves Where the lady Mary is, With her five handmaidens, whose names Are five sweet symphonies, Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen, Margaret and Rosalys.
Page 4 - I wish that he were come to me, For he will come,' she said. 'Have I not prayed in Heaven? - on earth, Lord, Lord, has he not pray'd?
Page 144 - See, see, the wax has dropped from its place, Sister Helen, And the flames are winning up apace !" "Yet here they burn but for a space. Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, Here for a space, between Hell and Heaven .') "Ah ! what white thing at the door has cross'd ? Sister Helen? Ah! what is this that sighs in the frost?" "A soul that's lost as mine is lost, Little brother!
Page 178 - And where, I pray you, is the Queen Who willed that Buridan should steer Sewed in a sack's mouth down the Seine ?But where are the snows of yesteryear ? White Queen Blanche, like a queen of lilies, With a voice like any mermaiden, Bertha Broadfoot, Beatrice, Alice, And Ermengarde the lady of Maine, And that good Joan whom Englishmen At Rouen doomed and burned her there, Mother of God, where are they then? But where are the snows of yesteryear...

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