#English #Victorians #XIXCentury #RhymedStanza
Between the hands, between the bro… Between the lips of Love—Lily, A spirit is born whose birth endow… My blood with fire to burn through… Who breathes upon my gazing eyes,
Around the vase of Life at your s… He has not crept, but turned it wi… And all its sides already understa… There, girt, one breathes alert fo… Whose road runs far by sands and f…
Beauty like hers is genius. Not t… Of Homer’s or of Dante’s heart su… Not Michael’s hand furrowing the… Is more with compassed mysteries m… Nay, not in Spring’s Summer’s swe…
OH how the family affections comb… Within this heart, and each hour f… My burning soul! Neither from owl… Can peace be gained until I clasp…
Two separate divided silences, Which, brought together, would fin… Two glances which together would r… In love, now lost like stars beyon… Two hands apart whose touch alone…
O lovely hand, that thy sweet self… In that thy pure and proper elemen… Whence erst the Lady of Love’s hi… Was born, and endless fires sprang… Even as her Loves to her their of…
“'TWAS thus, thus is, and thus s… The Beautiful—the Good— Still mirror to the Human Soul Its own intensitude!”
When first that horse, within whos… The birth was death, o’ershadowed… Her elders, dubious of its Grecia… Brought Helen there to sing the s… She whispered, “Friends, I am alo…
DID she in summer write it, or in… Or with this wail of autumn at her… Or in some winter left among old y… Scratched it through tettered cark… That round her heart the frost was…
NON NOI PITTORI! God of Nat… If these, not we! Be it not said,… Of us goes hence: “As these did,… His feet sought out their footprin… Because, dear God! the flesh Thou…
What of her glass without her? Th… There where the pool is blind of t… Her dress without her? The tossed… Of cloud—rack whence the moon has… Her paths without her? Day’s appo…
AT length I sickened, standing in… Truthful and for the Truth, whose… Are madness and sharp death. I bo… And said: “As long as the world’s… These accents have been said and t…
Sometimes she is a child within mi… Cowering beneath dark wings that l… With still tears showering and ave… Inexplicably fill’d with faint ala… And oft from mine own spirit’s hur…
REND, rend thine hair, Cassandra… Yea, rend thy garments, wring thin… From Troy still towered to the un… See, all but she that bore thee mo… He most whom that fair woman arms,…
O RUFF—EMBASTIONED vast El… Bush to these bushel—bellied casks… Home—growth, 'tis true, but rank a… What would we with such skittle—pl… Say, must we watch these brawlers’…