Florilegium Amantis

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G. Bell, 1879 - English poetry - 230 pages
 

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Page 102 - ... when that night I pray'd To God, I wept, and said: Ah! when at last we lie with tranced breath, Not vexing Thee in death, And Thou rememberest of what toys We made our joys, How weakly understood Thy great commanded good, Then, fatherly not less Than I whom Thou hast moulded from the clay, Thou'lt leave Thy wrath, and say, 'I will be sorry for their childishness.
Page 101 - His Mother, who was patient, being dead. Then, fearing lest his grief should hinder sleep, I visited his bed, But found him slumbering deep, With darkened eyelids, and their lashes yet From his late sobbing wet.
Page 101 - From his late sobbing wet. And I, with moan, Kissing away his tears, left others of my own ; For, on a table drawn beside his head, He had put, within his reach, A box of counters, and a...
Page 108 - The Rose of the World Lo, when the Lord made North and South And sun and moon ordained, He, Forthbringing each by word of mouth In order of its dignity, Did man from the crude clay express By sequence, and, all else decreed, He form'd the woman ; nor might less Than Sabbath such a work succeed.
Page 160 - Too gently to be call'd delight, Within the dark vale reappears As a wild cataract of tears ; And love in life should strive to see Sometimes what love in death would be ! Easier to love, we so should find, It is than to be just and kind.
Page 164 - twere to misdeserve The poet's gift of perfect speech, In song to try, with trembling nerve, The limit of its utmost reach, Only to sound the wretched praise Of what to-morrow shall not be ; So mocking with immortal bays The cross-bones of mortality ! I do not thus. My faith is fast That all the loveliness I sing Is made to bear the mortal blast, And blossom in a better Spring.
Page 33 - The dear lips quiver'd as they spake, And the tears brake From eyes which, not to grieve me, brightly smiled. Poor Child, poor Child! I seem to hear your laugh, your talk, your song. It is not true that Love will do no wrong. Poor Child! And did you think, when you so cried and smiled, How I, in lonely nights, should lie awake, And of those words your full avengers make ? Poor Child, poor Child! And now, unless it be That sweet amends thrice told are come to thee, O God, have Thou no mercy upon me...
Page 47 - plaining seems to cure his plight: He makes his sorrow, when there's none; His fancy blows both cold and hot; Next to the wish that she'll be won, His first hope is that she may not; He sues, yet deprecates consent; Would she be captured she must fly; She looks too happy and content, For whose least pleasure he would die; Oh, cruelty, she cannot care For one to whom she's always kind!
Page 48 - tis a postulate in love That part is greater than the whole, And all his apprehension's stress, When he's with her, regards her hair, Her hand, a ribbon of her dress, As if his life were only there ; Because she's constant, he will change, And kindest glances coldly meet, And, all the time he seems so strange, His soul is fawning at her feet...
Page 50 - WITH all my will, but much against my heart, We two now part. My Very Dear, Our solace is, the sad road lies so clear. It needs no art, With faint, averted feet And many a tear, In our opposed paths to persevere. Go thou to East, I West. We will not say There's any hope, it is so far away But, O, my Best, When the one darling of our widowhead, The nursling Grief, Is dead, And no dews blur our eyes To see the peach-bloom come in evening skies, Perchance we may, Where now this night is day, And even...

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