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arms began blue born breath bright cheek clouds cold comes course dark dead dear Death deep died door dream Epigram eyes face fair fall fear friends gave give gold golden gone grave green hair half hand hard hath head hear heart hope horse human keep kind Lady leaves legs light live look Lord mind Miss morn never night o'er once play poor rose round seem'd short sigh sight sing sleep song soon sort soul sound stand stood sure sweet tears tell thee There's thing thou thought Till took tree true turn Twas voice wave wind wings wish young
Página 345 - ... the night, Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro. So silently we seemed to speak, So slowly moved about, As we had lent her half our powers To eke her living out. 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 430 - The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Página 521 - 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 546 - 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 hurled— Anywhere, anywhere Out of the world...
Página 521 - Seam, and gusset, and band, Band, and gusset, and seam, Till over the buttons I fall asleep, And sew them on in a dream! 'Oh, Men, with Sisters dear! Oh, Men, with Mothers and Wives! It is not linen you're wearing out But human creatures
Página 545 - One more Unfortunate, Weary of breath, Rashly importunate Gone to her death! Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care; Fashion'd so slenderly, Young and so fair! Look at her garments Clinging like cerements; 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.
Página 546 - Who was her father ? Who was her mother ? Had she a sister ? Had she a brother ? Or was there a dearer one Still, and a nearer one Yet, than all other...
Página 526 - For over all there hung a cloud of fear, A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, And said, as plain as whisper in the ear, The place is Haunted!
Página 521 - 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 !