All that remains of thee these plaits unfold,
Calm hair meandering in pellucid gold.
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Here, ever since you went abroad,
I only walk our wonted road,The road is only walkt by me.Yes; I forgot; a change there is;Was it of that you bade me tell?I catch at times, at times I missThe sight, the tone, I know so well.Only two months since you stood here!Two shortest months! then tell me whyVoices are harsher than they…
“ARTEMIDORA! Gods invisible,
Have tied the sandal to thy veined feet,And stand beside thee, ready to conveyThy weary steps where other rivers flow.Refreshing shades will waft thy wearinessAway, and voices like thine own come nigh,Soliciting, nor vainly, thy embrace.”Artemidora sigh’d, and would have press’dThe hand now pressing hers, but was too weak.Fate’s shears were over her dark hair…
When the buds began to burst,
I was walking; joyous thenFar above all other men,Till before us up there stoodBritonferry’s oaken wood,Whispering, ‘Happy as thou art,Happiness and thou must part.’Many summers have gone bySince a Second Rose and I(Rose from the same stem) have toldThis and other tales of old.She upon her wedding dayCarried home my tenderest lay:From her lap I…
There is delight in singing, though none hear
In praising, though the praiser sits aloneAnd see the praised far off him, far above.Shakespeare is not our poet, but the world’s,Therefore on him no speech! and brief for thee,Browning! Since Chaucer was alive and haleNo man hath walked along our roads with stepSo active, so inquiring eye, or tongueSo varied in discourse. But warmer…
REMAIN, ah not in youth alone,
But when my summer days are gone,And my autumnal haste away.“Can I be always by your side?”No; but the hours you can, you must,Nor rise at Death’s approaching stride,Nor go when dust is gone to dust.
Damaetas is a boy as rue
He watcht the little Ida goingWhere the wood-raspberries were growing,And, under a pretence of fearLest they might scratch her arms, drew near,And, plucking up a stiff grey bent,The fruit (scarce touching it,) he sentInto both hands: the form they tookOf a boat’s keel upon a brook;So not a raspberry fell downTo splash her foot or…