Said the Rose: And Other Lyrics

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Longmans, Green, and Company, 1907 - 153 pages

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Page 41 - Rest the remnant of our army, Rests each motley regiment, Coldstream, Fusileer, and Ranger. Line, and Guard together blent, — To the charge still sternly leaning, Undismayed, undaunted still. Grimly frowning o'er the valley, Proven masters of the hill. A windgust from the mountain Swept the driving rack away, And we saw our battling brothers, For the first time that dark day. But as up the white shroud drifted, St, George, what sight beneath ! — 'Twas as when the veil is lifted From the stony...
Page xxv - July 24, 1857. MY DEAR MR. FIELDS, — I return the three poems you sent me, having read them with much gratification. Each of them has its peculiar merits and defects, as it seems to me, but all show poetical feeling and artistic skill. " Sleep On ! " is the freshest and most individual in its character. You will see my pencil comment at the end of it. " Inkerman " is comparatively slipshod and careless, though not without lyric fire and vivid force of description.
Page 43 - ... colors, And if no succor near, Then for God, our Queen, our country, Let us proudly perish here. Each hand and foot grows firmer, As they yell their demon cry ; Each soldier's cheek grows brighter, As his last stern task draws nigh : — By the dead of Balaklava, We will show them how to die ! XII. Heard ye not that tramp behind us ? If a foeman come that way, We may make one charge to venge us, And then look our last of day. As the tiger from the jungle, On the bounding column comes, We can...
Page 95 - Nation first in schools and last in scholars! "Where few are ignorant, yet none excel, Whose peasants read, whose statesmen scarcely spell ; Of what avail that science light the way, When dwindling Senates totter to decay, — Like some tall poplar withered at the head, Our middle green, but all the summit dead.
Page 6 - There I lay beneath her window In a swoon, Till the earthworm o'er me trailing Woke me just at twilight's failing, As the whip-poor-will was wailing To the moon. But I hear the storm-winds stirring In their lair; And I know they soon will lift me In their giant arms and sift me Into ashes as they drift me Through the air. So I pray them in their mercy Just to take From my heart of hearts or near it The last living leaf, and bear it To her feet, and bid her wear it For my sake.
Page 43 - We can hear their billowy surging, as up the hill they pant, — O God! how sweetly sounded the well-known " En avant ! " With their golden eagles soaring, bloodless lips and falcon glance, Radiant with the light of battle, came the chivalry of France ! Ah ! full well, full well we knew them, our bearded, bold allies. All Austerlitz seemed shining its sunlight from their eyes. Round their bright array dividing, we gave them passage large, For we knew no line then living could face that fiery charge.
Page 3 - I AM weary of the garden, Said the Rose; For the winter winds are sighing, All my playmates round me dying, And my leaves will soon be lying 'Neath the snows. But I hear my Mistress coming, Said the Rose; She will take me to her chamber, Where the honeysuckles clamber, And I'll bloom there all December, 'Spite the snows. Sweeter fell her lily finger Than the Bee ! Ah ! how feebly I resisted, Smoothed my thorns, and e'en assisted As all blushing I was twisted Off my tree, And she fixed me in her bosom...
Page xxv - Sleep On!" is the freshest and most individual in its character. You will see my pencil comment at the end of it. "Inkerman" is comparatively slipshod and careless, though not without lyric fire and vivid force of description. "Raphael Sanzio" would deserve higher praise if it were not so closely imitative. In truth, all these poems have a genuine sound; they are full of poetical thought, and breathed out in softly modulated words. The music of "Sleep On!
Page 28 - But let the picture tell its story. Take Your stand in this far corner. Falls the light As you would have it ? That, Saint Barbara ; Observe her inclination, and the finger Of Sixtus : both are pointing — where? Now, look Below — those grand boy-angels : watch their eyes Fastened— on whom ? What : not yet catch my meaning ? Step closer — half a step — no nearer. Mark The Babe's fixed glance of calm equality. Observe that wondering, rapt, dilated gaze, The Mother's superhuman joy and fear,...
Page 89 - Some broidered hanging stinted on the wall, Nay, e'en some jewels gone, that graced us when All men were free here — even gentlemen. Of all the slaves in social bondage nursed, PATER-FAMILIAS stands supremely first : Proud of his bondage, tickled with his chains, The parent cringes while the stripling reigns. Down with the Dotard ! consecrate the Boy ! Since Age must suffer, let bright Youth enjoy. Drink morning in ! — old eyes were meant to wake: Shake hands with ruin ! — old hearts never...

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