Marble Isle: Legends of the Round Table, and Other PoemsJ.B. Lippincott, 1864 - 264 من الصفحات |
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amid angels arms Arthur ATHALIE bade beauty blood bore bow'd brave breast breath bright brow Camelot comrade dark dead dear death died dreams e'en e'er eager earth Eurystheus evermore Excalibur eyes face fair fate fill'd Galahad gather'd Gawaine gaze glory glow God's golden grace grave Guinevere hand head heart heaven Hesperides hope hour joust Joyous Garde king King Arthur King Lot lean'd light lips living lonely look'd love's MARKE of Cornwall ne'er neath never o'er once pain pass'd passion Pellinore perchance pray'd prayer queen realms of passion round Sancgreal seem'd shining show'd Siege Perilous sight silent Sir Balin Sir Ector Sir Launcelot smile song sorrow soul sparkling spirit spoke stirr'd stood sudden sweet sword tears thee thine thou thought throbbing throne tones touch'd trembling turn'd Twas unto voice waiting walk'd watch'd waves weary weep wild woman's words wound yearning
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 223 - Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard-lawns And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.
الصفحة 91 - If for my consolation Monseigneur would grant me, for the sake of God and the Most Blessed Trinity, that I could have news of my dear wife; were it only her name on a card, to show that she is alive! It were the greatest consolation I could receive; and I should forever bless the greatness of Monseigneur.
الصفحة 136 - To search for our dead, yon would be a fair sight? You're his wife ; you love him — you think so ; and I Am only his mother ; my boy shall not lie In a ditch with the rest, while my arms can bear His form to a grave that mine own may soon share. So, if your strength fails, best go sit by the hearth, While his mother alone seeks his bed on the earth.
الصفحة 136 - LD the lantern aside, and shudder not so ; There's more blood to see than this stain on the snow; There are pools of it, lakes of it, just over there, And fixed faces all streaked, and crimsonsoaked hair. Did you think, when we came, you and I, out to-night To search for our dead, yon would be a fair sight? You're his wife ; you love him — you think so ; and I Am only his mother ; my boy shall not lie In a ditch with the rest, while my arms can bear...
الصفحة 137 - ... rest, while my arms can bear His form to a grave that mine own may soon share. So, if your strength fails, best go sit by the hearth, While his mother alone seeks his bed on the earth. You will go! then no faintings! Give me the light, And follow my footsteps — my heart will lead right. Ah, God! what is here? a great heap of the slain. All mangled and gory ! — what horrible pain These beings have died in ! Dear mothers, ye weep, Ye weep, oh, ye weep o'er this terrible sleep ! More!
الصفحة 138 - Here's the voice that we seek ; poor soul, do not start ; We're women, not ghosts. What a gash o'er the heart! Is there aught we can do ? A message to give To any beloved one ? I swear, if I live, To take it for sake of the words my boy said, "Home," "mother," "wife," ere he reeled down 'mong the dead.
الصفحة 137 - That your red hands turn over toward this dim light These dead men that stare so? Ah, if you had kept Your senses this morning ere his comrades had left, You had heard that his place was worst of them all, — Not mid the stragglers, — where he fought he would fall. There's the moon thro' the clouds: O Christ, what a scene!
الصفحة 139 - Tis a dream. My old sight Is dimmed with these horrors. My son ! oh, my son ! Would I had died for thee, my own, only one ! There, lift off your arms ; let him come to the breast Where first he was lulled, with my soul's hymn to rest. Your heart never thrilled to your lover's fond kiss As mine to his baby-touch ; was it for this ? He was yours, too ; he loved you ! Yes, yes, you're right. Forgive me, my daughter, I'm maddened to-night.
الصفحة 137 - I stood in the porch and heard his chief tell How brave was my son, how he gallantly fell. Did they think I cared then to see officers stand Before my great sorrow, each hat in each hand ? Why, girl, do you feel neither reverence nor fright, That your red hands turn over...
الصفحة 138 - mother," "wife," ere he reeled down 'mong the dead. But first, can you tell where his regiment stood ? Speak, speak, man, or point ; 'twas the Ninth. Oh, the blood Is choking his voice ! What a look of despair ! There, lean on my knee, while I put back the hair From eyes so fast glazing.