Red Leaves and Roses: Poems (Google eBook)

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G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1893 - American poetry - 205 pages
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Page 194 - What is there in the moon, that swims A naked bosom o'er the limbs, That all the wood with magic dims? While still, while still, Among the trees whose shadows grope...
Page 96 - A harsh cracking throat like the old stone flue Where the swallows build the summers through ; Shall a man, I say, with the spider sins That the long years spin in the outs and ins Of his soul, returning to see once more His boyhood's home Shall he not take comfort and know the truth In its thread-bare raiment of falsehood? Yea! In his crumbled past he shall kneel and pray, Like a pilgrim come to the shrine again Of the homely saints that shall soothe his pain, And arise and depart, made clean...
Page 128 - ... and her child and left them to enlist: She heard his horse grind in the gravel: he Waved them adieu and rose to fight with Lee. Now all around her drowsed the hushful hum Of evening insects. And his letter spoke Of love and longings to her : nor awoke One echo of the bugle and the drum, But all their future in one kiss did sum. The stars were thick now; and the western blush Drained into darkness. With a dreamy sigh She rocked her chair. It must have been the cry Of infancy that made her...
Page 95 - The garden there where the soft sky clears Like an old sweet face that has dried its tears. One of the most impressive and sustained instances of this trope-making occurs in A Voice on the Wind a poem palpitant with both human emotion and feeling for Nature's pathetic aspects : Who is she who wanders alone, When the wind drives sheer and the rain is blown ? Who walks all night and...
Page 95 - Shall a man with face as withered and gray As a wasp-nest stowed in a loft away, Where the hornets haunt and the mortar drops From the loosened log of the clap-board tops ; Whom vice has aged as the rotting rooms The rain where memories haunt the glooms ; A hitch in his joints like the rheum that gnars In the rasping hinge of the door that jars ; A harsh...
Page 193 - Beneath the idle beechen boughs We heard the cow-bells of the cows Come slowly jangling towards the house; And still, and still, Beyond, the light that would not die Out of the scarlet-haunted sky, Beyond the evening-star's white eye Of glittering chalcedony, Drained out of dusk the plaintive cry Of "whippoorwill!
Page 193 - Above long woodland ways that led To dells the stealthy twilights tread The west was hot geranium-red ; And still, and still, Along old lanes, the locusts sow With clustered curls the May-times know, Out of the crimson afterglow, We heard the homeward cattle low, And then the far-off, far-off woe Of "whippoorwill!
Page 193 - whippoorwill !" of " whippoorwill ! " II. Beneath the idle beechen boughs We heard the cow-bells of the cows Come slowly jangling towards the house; And still, and still, Beyond the light that would not die Out of the scarlet-haunted sky, Beyond the evening-star's white eye Of glittering chalcedony, Drained out of dusk the plaintive...
Page 129 - The five-months husband, whom his country had Enlisted, strong for war; returning this, Whose broken countenance she feared to kiss, While health's remembrance stood beside him sad, And grieved for that which was no longer his. They brought him on a litter ; and the day Was bright and beautiful. It seemed that May In woodland rambles had forgot her path Of season, and, disrobing for a bath, By the autumnal waters of some bay, With her white nakedness had conquered Wrath. Far otherwise she wished...
Page 127 - She smiled; yet almost feared It changed him so she could not reconcile Her heart to that which hid his lips and smile. Then tried to feature, but could only see The beardless man who bent to her and kissed Her and her child and left them to enlist: She heard his horse grind in the gravel: he Waved them adieu and rose to fight with Lee. Now all around her drowsed the hushful hum Of evening insects. And his letter spoke Of love and longings to her : nor awoke One echo of the bugle and the drum, But...

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