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arms beneath blood breast breath brow child close cried dark dead death deep door dream eyes face fair fall Father fear feet fell fire flame gaze God's golden gone hair hand hath head hear heard heart held Hell and Heaven hope hour Italy keep King kiss knew lady laughed leaves light lips Little brother living look Lord Love's Mary Mother meet moon never night o'er once pale passed past poor Queen rest rose round seemed shadow shame side sight silence Sing Sister Helen song SONNET soul sound speak spoke Spring stand stood sweet tears tell thee thine thing thou thought till to-day told trees turned Twas unto voice wind wings youth
Página 180 - A Sonnet is a moment's monument,— Memorial from the Soul's eternity • To one dead deathless hour. Look that it be, Whether for lustral rite or dire portent, Of its own arduous fulness reverent: Carve it in ivory or in ebony, As Day or Night may rule; and let Time see Its flowering crest
Página 182 - Love through thee made known? Or when in the dusk hours, (we two alone,) Close-kissed and eloquent of still replies Thy twilight-hidden glimmering visage lies, And my soul only sees thy soul its own ? O love, my love 1 if I no more should see Thyself, nor on the earth the shadow of thee, Nor
Página 229 - when the wan soul in that golden air Between the scriptured petals softly blown Peers breathless for the gift of grace unknown,— Ah ! let none other alien spell soe'er But only the one Hope's one name be there,— Not less nor more, but even that word alone.
Página 73 - More loud than the vesper-chime it fell." " No vesper-chime, but a dying knell, Little brother ! " (O Mother, Mary Mother, His dying knell, between Hell and Heaven f) " Alas 1 but I fear the heavy sound, Sister Helen ; Is it in the sky or in the ground ? " " Say, have they turned their horses round, Little brother
Página 207 - WITHOUT HER, WHAT of her glass without her ? The blank grey There where the pool is blind of the moon's face. Her dress without her ? The tossed empty space Of cloud-rack whence the moon has passed away. Her paths without her ? Day's appointed sway Usurped by desolate night. Her pillowed place Without her ? Tears, ah me
Página 256 - that the earth is changing, O my God I Nor that the seasons totter in their walk,— Not that the virulent ill of act and talk Seethes ever as a winepress ever trod,— Not therefore are we certain that the rod Weighs in thine hand to smite thy world; though
Página 252 - THE CARD-DEALER. COULD you not drink her gaze like wine ? Yet though its splendour swoon Into the silence languidly As a tune into a tune, Those eyes unravel the coiled night And know the stars at noon. The gold that's heaped beside her hand, In truth rich prize it were
Página 74 - Mother, Most sad of all, between Hell and Heaven /) " 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,
Página 66 - WHY did you melt your waxen man, Sister Helen ? To-day is the third since you began." " The time was long, yet the time ran, Little brother." (O Mother, Mary Mother, Three days to-day, between Hell and Heaven
Página 206 - IV. So sang he : and as meeting rose and rose Together cling through the wind's wellaway Nor change at once, yet near the end of day The leaves drop loosened where the heart-stain glows, So when the song died did the kiss unclose ; And her face fell back drowned, and was as