Poetical Works, Including The Shepherd Lady and Other Poems

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J.W. Lovell Company, 1880 - 520 ˹éÒ
 

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˹éÒ 115 - And didst thou visit him no more? Thou didst, thou didst, my daughter deare ; The waters laid thee at his doore, Ere yet the early dawn was clear. Thy pretty bairns in fast embrace, The lifted sun shone on thy face, Downe drifted to thy dwelling-place.
˹éÒ 114 - With that he cried and beat his breast; For lo! along the river's bed A mighty eygre reared his crest, And uppe the Lindis raging sped. It swept with thunderous noises loud ; Shaped like a curling snow-white cloud, Or like a demon in a shroud.
˹éÒ 113 - Then some looked uppe into the sky, And all along where Lindis flows To where the goodly vessels lie, And where the lordly steeple shows, They sayde, 'And why should this thing be? What danger lowers by land or sea? They ring the tune of Enderby!
˹éÒ 113 - Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" (A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth.) "The olde sea wall (he cried) is downe, The rising tide comes on apace, And boats adrift in yonder towne Go sailing uppe the market-place.
˹éÒ 115 - Cusha!" all along Where the sunny Lindis floweth. Goeth, floweth; From the meads where melick groweth, When the water winding down, Onward floweth to the town. I shall never see her more Where the reeds and rushes quiver, Shiver, quiver; Stand beside the sobbing river, Sobbing, throbbing, in its falling To the sandy lonesome shore; I shall never hear her calling, " Leave your meadow grasses mellow...
˹éÒ 111 - Good ringers, pull your best," quoth he. ' Play uppe, play uppe, O Boston bells ! Ply all your changes, all your swells, Play uppe ' The Brides of Enderby.' " Men say it was a stolen tyde — The Lord that sent it, He knows all ; But in myne ears doth still abide The message that the bells let fall : And there was naught of strange, beside The flight of inews and peewits pied By millions crouched on the old sea wall.
˹éÒ 126 - O columbine, open your folded wrapper, Where two twin turtle-doves dwell ! 0 cuckoopint, toll me the purple clapper That hangs in your clear green bell...
˹éÒ 128 - Now, if there be footsteps, he comes, my one lover, — Hush, nightingale, hush! O sweet nightingale, wait Till I listen and hear If a step draweth near, For my love he is late! "The skies in the darkness stoop nearer and nearer, A cluster of stars hangs like fruit in the tree, The fall of the water comes sweeter, comes clearer: To what art thou listening, and what dost thou see? Let the star-clusters grow, Let the sweet waters flow, And cross quickly to me.
˹éÒ 398 - So take Joy home, And make a place in thy great heart for her, And give her time to grow, and cherish her; Then will she come, and oft will sing to thee, When thou art working in the furrows; ay, Or weeding in the sacred hour of dawn. It is a comely fashion to be glad,— Joy is the grace we say to God.
˹éÒ 396 - I have got it in my life; yes, I, And many more: it doth not us beseem, Therefore, to sigh. Is there not hung a ladder in our sky? Yea; and, moreover, all the way up on high Is thickly peopled with the prayers of men. We have no dream!

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