Narrative Poems

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Macmillan, 1891 - English poetry - 187 pages
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Page 40 - One fell, and a second quickly stopped The gap that he left when he reeled and dropped; The second, — a third straight filled his place; The third, — and a fourth kept up the race. Many a fez in the mud was crushed, Many a throat that cheered was hushed, Many a heart that sought the crest Found Allah's arms and a houri's breast.
Page 40 - And the ridge with their musket-rattle rang, Till the faces that lined the last redoubt Could see their faces and hear their shout. In the redoubt a fair form towered, That cheered up the brave and chid the coward ; Brandishing blade with a gallant air ; His head erect and his bosom bare. "Fly ! they are on us ! " his men implored ; But he waved them on with his waving sword.
Page 41 - Fly! they are on us!" his men implored; But he waved them on with his waving sword. "It cannot be held; 'tis no shame to go!" But he stood with his face set hard to the foe. Then clung they about him, and tugged, and knelt; He drew a pistol from out his belt, And fired it blank at the first that set Foot on the edge of the parapet Over that first one toppled; but on Clambered the rest till their bayonets shone, As hurriedly fled his men dismayed, Not a bayonet's length from the length of his blade.
Page 24 - The joy she feared is at her side, Spring's blushing secret now is known. The primrose and its mates have flown, The thrush's ringing note hath died; But glancing eye and glowing tone Fall on her from her god, her guide. She knows not, asks not, what the goal, She only feels she moves towards bliss, And yields her pure unquestioning soul To touch and fondling kiss. And still she haunts those woodland ways, Though all fond fancy finds there now To mind of spring or summer days, Are sodden trunk and...
Page 176 - Soul, heart, and body, we thus singly name, Are not, in love, divisible and distinct, But each with each inseparably linked. One is not honour, and the other shame, But burn as closely fused as fuel, heat, and flame. " They do not love who give the body and keep The heart ungiven ; nor they who yield the soul, And guard the body. Love doth give the whole ; Its range being high as heaven, as ocean deep, Wide as the realms of air or planet's curving sweep.
Page 127 - Then louder, still louder he shrilled : " I sing For the pleasure and pride of shrilling, For the sheen and the sap and the showers of Spring That fill me to overfilling. VII. " Yet a something deeper than Spring-time, though It is Spring-like, my throat keeps flooding : Peep soft at my mate — she is there below — Where the bramble trails are budding.
Page 89 - ... that you only give me time, I can walk to the church and back. You bade me not die till you returned, and so you see I lived on : I'm glad that I did, now you've really come, but it's almost time I was gone. I suppose that there isn't room for us all, and the old should depart the first. That's but as it should be.
Page 21 - One year when the harvest feasts were done, And the mending of tattered nets begun, And the kittiwake's scream took a weirder key From the wailing wind and the moaning sea, He was found, at morn, on the fresh-strewn snow, Frozen, and faint, and crooning low, Ave Maria ! IX.
Page 19 - IN the ages of Faith, before the day When men were too proud to weep or pray, There stood in a red-roofed Breton town, Snugly nestled 'twixt sea and down, A chapel for simple souls to meet, Nightly, and sing with voices sweet. Ave Maria ! II.
Page 155 - But the cuckoo comes back and shouts once more, Cuckoo ! And the world is as young as it was before : Cuckoo ! Cuckoo ! It grows not older for mortal tears, For the falsehood of men or for women's fears ; Tis as young as it was in the bygone years, When first was heard the cuckoo.

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