Life hath many mysteries, and other poems

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Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans, 1847 - 80 pages
 

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Page 15 - O'er the bright heaving streamlet now sluggishly borne." Alas, for poor Mary, the maid of the mill; Thy song will not wake with the lark's on the hill. What damsel will venture thy pitcher to fill ? Who can gaze on yon arch, or the dark current's gleam— On yon wheel in its round, tossing spray o'er the stream, Where the mill runs so fast, and the green waters glide, Nor think of poor Mary, how sadly she died ! MY SISTER.
Page 14 - Mary, tho' crushed, is still fair ! Then one spake as follows :—" 'Tis strange, but she said, Yestermorn, as she carried her pail on her head, That she dreaded the mill-stream, it haunted her so, Some day she should drown there, and feared much to go." " Last night," said the miller, " I dreamt she was drowned, And thought of that dream when the wheel stayed its round. And terribly shook as the fell deed was done ! Ere I reached it, to stop it, all smoothly it run, And this body was floating so...
Page 15 - Yestermorn, as she carried her pail on her head, That she dreaded the mill-stream, it haunted her so, Some day she should drown there, and feared much to go." " Last night," said the miller, " I dreamt she was drowned, And thought of that dream when the wheel stayed its round. And terribly shook as the fell deed was done ! Ere I reached it, to stop it, all smoothly it run, And this body was floating so lifeless and torn, O'er the bright heaving streamlet now sluggishly borne.
Page 14 - Strange phantoms of death o'er her young vision pass'd ! Has the current grown stronger ? has her arm grown too weak Hark ! one heavy plunge, and one wild thrilling shriek ! She's gone down the mill-stream, and under the wheel ! It stops but to tear her — the wood and the steel ! The miller within felt that terrible shake, Scarce a bone of poor Mary the wheel did not break ! When he looked from his lattice how fearful the sight ! There floats a dull corpse on the waters so bright ! They lift out...
Page 14 - Mary, half giddy, dipped her pitcher at last, Strange phantoms of death o'er her young vision pass'd ! Has the current grown stronger ? has her arm grown too weak Hark ! one heavy plunge, and one wild thrilling shriek ! She's gone down the mill-stream, and under the wheel ! It stops but to tear her — the wood and the steel ! The miller within felt that terrible shake, Scarce a bone of poor Mary the wheel did not break ! When he looked from his lattice how fearful the sight ! There floats a dull...
Page 21 - Thou wast not of the world, and yet there came King's footsteps to thy door all reverently, And Prussia's monarch did not think it shame, To leave thy presence with a weeping eye.
Page 10 - What we are or what shall be, When our clay-bound souls are free, Is to all a mystery.
Page 10 - Yet \ve learn in that short gaze, More, perchance, than lengthened days, Tell us of a young heart's ways — Life hath many mysteries ! May be more in hearts than eyes, Binding us by secret ties.
Page 9 - But those eyes when they have need, With the lightning's magic speed, Wistfully the heart can read.
Page 11 - How the Tempter access finds, Till his deadly snare he winds, Round the meshes of our minds— Is an awful mystery, Into which we cannot pry, Till the hour we come to die.

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