Poems, Volumen71863 |
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Página 177
... Demeter's daughter fresh and fair , A child of light , a radiant lass , And gamesome as the morning air . The daffodils were fair to see , They nodded lightly on the lea , Persephone - Persephone ! Lo ! one she marked of rarer growth ...
... Demeter's daughter fresh and fair , A child of light , a radiant lass , And gamesome as the morning air . The daffodils were fair to see , They nodded lightly on the lea , Persephone - Persephone ! Lo ! one she marked of rarer growth ...
Página 178
... Demeter , mother , far from thee ! Ah , fated doom that I fulfill ! Ah , fateful flower beside the rill ! The daffodil , the daffodil ! ' What ails her that she comes not home ? Demeter seeks her far and wide , And gloomy browed doth ...
... Demeter , mother , far from thee ! Ah , fated doom that I fulfill ! Ah , fateful flower beside the rill ! The daffodil , the daffodil ! ' What ails her that she comes not home ? Demeter seeks her far and wide , And gloomy browed doth ...
Página 179
... Demeter's daughter go . The tender corn upon the lea Droops in her goddess gloom when she Cries for her lost Persephone . ' From land to land she raging flies , The green fruit falleth in her wake , And harvest fields beneath her eyes ...
... Demeter's daughter go . The tender corn upon the lea Droops in her goddess gloom when she Cries for her lost Persephone . ' From land to land she raging flies , The green fruit falleth in her wake , And harvest fields beneath her eyes ...
Página 180
... Demeter's daughter , wouldst away ? ' The gates of Hades set her free ; ' She will return full soon , ' saith he— ' My wife , my wife Persephone . ' Low laughs the dark king on his throne- ' I gave her of pomegranate seeds ; ' Demeter's ...
... Demeter's daughter , wouldst away ? ' The gates of Hades set her free ; ' She will return full soon , ' saith he— ' My wife , my wife Persephone . ' Low laughs the dark king on his throne- ' I gave her of pomegranate seeds ; ' Demeter's ...
Página 181
... Demeter sighs , but sure ' t is well The wife should love her destiny ; They part , and yet , as legends tell , She mourns her lost Persephone ; While chant the maids of Enna still- ' O fateful flower beside the rill- The daffodil , the ...
... Demeter sighs , but sure ' t is well The wife should love her destiny ; They part , and yet , as legends tell , She mourns her lost Persephone ; While chant the maids of Enna still- ' O fateful flower beside the rill- The daffodil , the ...
Términos y frases comunes
1st Child babe beat behold bells beneath bird boat break breast bright brow cloud comfort cowslips cried Cromer Cusha daffodil dark dead dear deep Demeter door doth dream drop dulse Eglantine Enderby evermore eyes face fain fair father feet floating flute foxglove furled Ganymede gaze glad gold golden Goldilocks grass green hand happy hast hath hear hear my song heard heart heaven Kingcup lads light lips looked Lord lost lyre methought mother mourn musing nest never night nought Persephone Poet pray purple rill rock sailing saith sand shade shadow shine sigh sing sleep smile snow song soul stand stars stooped sunbeams sweet talk tell tender thee thing thou thought trees uppe voice wait wake ween white clover wife wind wings wonder words yearning youth
Pasajes populares
Página 145 - Leave your meadow grasses mellow, Mellow, mellow; Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow; Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot; Quit...
Página 168 - I pray you, what is the nest to me, My empty nest ? And what is the shore where I stood to see My boat sail down to the west ? Can I call that home where I anchor yet, Though my good man has sailed ? Can I call that home where my nest was set, Now all its hope hath failed ? 28 Songs of Seven.
Página 138 - I sat and spun within the doore, My thread brake off, I raised myne eyes; The level sun, like ruddy ore, Lay sinking in the barren skies; And dark against day's golden death She moved where Lindis wandereth. My sonne's faire wife, Elizabeth. "Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!
Página 2 - Over the grass we stepped unto it, And God, He knoweth how blithe we were ! Never a voice to bid us eschew it ; Hey the green ribbon that showed so fair ! Hey the green ribbon ! we kneeled beside it, We parted the grasses dewy and sheen ; Drop over drop there filtered and slided A tiny bright beck that trickled between. Tinkle, tinkle, sweetly it sung to us, Light was our talk as of faery bells — Faery wedding-bells faintly rung to us, Down in their fortunate parallels.
Página 158 - They are only one times one. 0 moon ! in the night I have seen you sailing And shining so round and low. You were bright — ah, bright — but your light is failing ; You are nothing now but a bow.
Página 3 - ... we sing in the glorious weather Till one steps over the tiny strand, So narrow, in sooth, that still together On either brink we go hand in hand. The beck grows wider, the hands must sever. On either margin, our songs all done, We move apart, while she singeth ever, Taking the course of the stooping sun. He prays, " Come over " — I may not follow ; I cry,
Página 142 - 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.
Página 166 - O fond, O fool, and blind, To God I gave with tears ; But when a man like grace would find, My soul put by her fears — O fond, O fool, and blind, God guards in happier spheres ; That man will guard where he did bind Is hope for unknown years. To hear, to heed, to wed, Fair lot that maidens choose, Thy mother's tenderest words are said, Thy face no more she views ; Thy mother's lot, my dear, She doth in nought accuse ; Her lot to bear, to nurse, to rear, To love — and then to lose.
Página 5 - ... drooping, A tired queen with her state oppressed, Low by rushes and sword-grass stooping, Lies she soft on the waves at rest. The desert heavens have felt her sadness ; Her earth will weep her some dewy tears ; The wild beck ends her tune of gladness, And goeth stilly as soul that fears. We two walk on in our grassy places, On either marge of the moonlit flood, With the moon's own sadness in our faces, Where joy is withered, blossom and bud.
Página 140 - Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot; Quit the stalks of parsley hollow, Hollow, hollow; Come uppe Jetty, rise and follow, From the clovers lift your head; Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot, Come uppe Jetty, rise and follow, Jetty, to the milking shed.