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abound Band Beneath Bloody Bloody Hand bone bough brain breath brow close cloth cloud cold dark dead death door dream dreary drops earth echo eyes face fair fall fear fell field flesh forest frame gloomy grave hand heart heaven heavy hollow hope horrid human hung Illustrated JAMES knew labor leaves lies light living lofty elms abound look moan morn mould murder mystery the spirit mystic never night place is haunted plain as whisper poor ragged remember roof rose round rugged Seam secret seemed sense of mystery Series shadow shady avenue shape shone sigh silent solemn sound sometimes Song soul spirit daunted stair stands stir stitch stood stroke sudden Take tears thing thought tongue took tool tree trunk turn universal voice walk wall wave weary wild wood young
Página 62 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags Plying her needle and thread — Stitch ! stitch ! stitch ! In poverty, hunger and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, Would that its tone could reach the rich ! She sang this "Song of the Shirt.
Página 78 - Our very hopes belied our fears — Our fears our hopes belied ; We thought her dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died. For when the morn came, dim and sad, And chill with early showers, Her quiet eyelids closed ; she had Another morn than ours!
Página 67 - Oh! but to breathe the breath Of the cowslip and primrose sweet. With the sky above my head. And the grass beneath my feet ; For only one short hour To feel as I used to feel, Before I knew the woes of want And the walk that costs a meal!
Página 60 - Fashion'd so slenderly, Young, and so fair! Ere her limbs frigidly Stiffen too rigidly, Decently, — kindly, — Smooth, and compose them; And her eyes, close them, Staring so blindly! Dreadfully staring Through muddy impurity, As when with the daring Last look of despairing Fixed on futurity.
Página 59 - Where the lamps quiver So far in the river, With many a light From window and casement, From garret to basement, She stood, with amazement, Houseless by night. The bleak wind of March Made her tremble and shiver; But not the dark arch, Or the black flowing river: Mad from life's history, Glad to death's mystery, Swift to be hurl'd Anywhere, anywhere, Out of the world!
Página 79 - Ines had always, for me, an inexpressible charm : O saw ye not fair Ines ? She's gone into the West, To dazzle when the sun is down. And rob the world of rest...
Página 66 - Work — work — work! My labor never flags; And what are its wages? A bed of straw, A crust of bread — and rags, That shattered roof — and this naked floor • A table — a broken chair — And a wall so blank my shadow I thank For sometimes falling there!
Página 57 - Whilst the wave constantly Drips from her clothing; Take her up instantly, Loving, not loathing. Touch her not scornfully; Think of her mournfully, Gently and humanly; Not of the stains of her, All that remains of her Now is pure womanly. Make no deep scrutiny Into her mutiny Rash and undutiful: Past all dishonour Death has left on her Only the beautiful.
Página 13 - TWAS in the prime of summer time, An evening calm and cool, And four-and-twenty happy boys Came bounding out of school : There were some that ran and some that leapt, Like troutlets in a pool.