In My Lady's Name: Poems of Love and Beauty |
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Page 9
... Beneath the palm and dreaming of the tune Of flowing waters , duped his soul withal . It was permitted me in my pilgrimage To rest beside the fount beneath the tree , Beholding there no vision , but a maid Whose form was light and ...
... Beneath the palm and dreaming of the tune Of flowing waters , duped his soul withal . It was permitted me in my pilgrimage To rest beside the fount beneath the tree , Beholding there no vision , but a maid Whose form was light and ...
Page 18
... beneath the water's gliding , Minnows hear , and shining dace , And come boldly from their hiding , To look on her pretty face- Their long fearfulness in token Of her artlessness now broken . Walking thoughtfully , she marries Her quick ...
... beneath the water's gliding , Minnows hear , and shining dace , And come boldly from their hiding , To look on her pretty face- Their long fearfulness in token Of her artlessness now broken . Walking thoughtfully , she marries Her quick ...
Page 24
... beneath that puffy thing Styled a sleeve . Her singing makes me think Of a tricksy bobolink All delight , With his silver strain aflow Where the apple - blossoms blow Pink and white . Like a wild rose , newly born , Bursting into bloom ...
... beneath that puffy thing Styled a sleeve . Her singing makes me think Of a tricksy bobolink All delight , With his silver strain aflow Where the apple - blossoms blow Pink and white . Like a wild rose , newly born , Bursting into bloom ...
Page 34
... beneath my feet And let a lover in . I see the honey on her lip , - Have pity , saint , on me , And turn a lonely gentleman Into a humble - bee . Why is it that an eye whose light Should feed but bright - hued petals , In my poor heart ...
... beneath my feet And let a lover in . I see the honey on her lip , - Have pity , saint , on me , And turn a lonely gentleman Into a humble - bee . Why is it that an eye whose light Should feed but bright - hued petals , In my poor heart ...
Page 37
... Beneath the sombre fir . How mournful is the wind's hoarse fret , How sad the twilight's gleam ! Oh , to be back again , Babette , Under the old régime ! CLINTON SCOLLARD . BARBARA . HE morn is hanging her fire - fringed veil , THE Made ...
... Beneath the sombre fir . How mournful is the wind's hoarse fret , How sad the twilight's gleam ! Oh , to be back again , Babette , Under the old régime ! CLINTON SCOLLARD . BARBARA . HE morn is hanging her fire - fringed veil , THE Made ...
Other editions - View all
In My Lady's Name: Poems of Love and Beauty (Classic Reprint) Charles Wells Moulton No preview available - 2017 |
In My Lady's Name: Poems of Love And: Beauty Charles Wells Moulton,G. P. Putnam's Sons No preview available - 2019 |
Common terms and phrases
ain dear ALFRED LORD beauty beneath bird bless bloom blossom blue blush bonnie bosom breast breath bright brow charms cheek CHIGAN CHRISTINA ROSSETTI CLINTON SCOLLARD Cluny water COVENTRY PATMORE dance delight divine doth dream Eleänore eyes face fair fairest fancy feet flowers G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS gaze gentle glance gleam glow golden grace hair hand hath heart heaven Hermioné JAMES HERBERT kiss laugh light lily lips LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE look love's MADISON CAWEIN maid maiden morning Nanie-o ne'er never night o'er Phyllida Posie praise pure Robert ROBERT BURNS ROBERT HERRICK Robina Rosalind rose rosy round Saint Valentine SAMUEL MINTURN Scollard shade shadow shine sigh sing skies smile soft song soul spring stars summer sweet sweetest tears tender TENNYSON thee thine Thomas Thou art thro violet voice warm wild William WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE wind
Popular passages
Page 260 - SHE was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely Apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.
Page 191 - But, soft ! what light through yonder window breaks ? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she...
Page 24 - Favours to none, to all she smiles extends; Oft she rejects, but never once offends. Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike, And, like the sun, they shine on all alike. Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride...
Page 337 - SHE stood breast high amid the corn, Clasped by the golden light of morn, Like the sweetheart of the sun, Who many a glowing kiss had won. On her cheek an autumn flush, Deeply ripened ; — such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn. Round her eyes her tresses fell, Which were blackest none could tell, But long lashes veiled a light, That had else been all too bright.
Page 139 - TO HELEN. Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome.
Page 40 - Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
Page 239 - Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast, As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon; Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, And on her silver cross soft amethyst, And on her hair a glory, like a saint: She seemed a splendid angel, newly drest, Save wings, for heaven: — Porphyro grew faint: She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.
Page 94 - You meaner beauties of the night, That poorly satisfy our eyes More by your number than your light ; You common people of the skies ; What are you when the moon shall rise?
Page 97 - And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, Of finer form or lovelier face...
Page 139 - Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece, And the grandeur that was Rome. Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche How statue-like I see thee stand, The agate lamp within thy hand! Ah, Psyche, from the regions which Are Holy Land! Israfel And the angel Israfel,...