Part 7 (2/2)
”I saw that every morning, far withdrawn, Beyond the darkness and the cataract, G.o.d made himself an awful rose of dawn, Unheeded.”
”There let the wind sweep and the plover cry; But thou go by.”
”As through the land at eve we went, And pluck'd the ripen'd ears, We fell out, my wife and I,-- O we fell out, I know not why, And kiss'd again with tears.
For when we came where lies the child We lost in other years, There above the little grave,-- O there above the little grave, We kiss'd again with tears.”
”Set in a cataract on an island-crag, When storm is on the heights of the long hills.”
”Tall as a figure lengthen'd on the sand When the tide ebbs in suns.h.i.+ne.”
”Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea; The cloud may stoop from heaven, and take the shape, With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape; But O too fond, when have I answered thee?
Ask me no more.”
”And she, as one that climbs a peak to gaze O'er land and main, and sees a great black cloud Drag inward from the deeps, a wall of night.”
”That like a broken purpose wastes in air.”
”To rest beneath the clover sod, That takes the suns.h.i.+ne and the rains, Or where the kneeling hamlet drains The chalice of the grapes of G.o.d.”
”So be it: there no shade can last In that deep dawn behind the tomb, But clear from marge to marge shall bloom The eternal landscape of the past.”
”I sleep till dusk is dipt in gray.”
”But Summer on the steaming floods, And Spring that swells the narrow brooks, And Autumn, with a noise of rooks, That gather in the waning woods.”
”From belt to belt of crimson seas, On leagues of odor streaming far, To where in yonder Orient star A hundred spirits whisper 'Peace.'”
”There rolls the deep where grew the tree: O earth, what changes thou hast seen!
There where the long street roars, hath been The stillness of the central sea.
The hills are shadows, and they flow From form to form, and nothing stands; They melt like mist, the solid lands, Like clouds they shape themselves and go.”
”If e'er when faith had fall'n asleep, I heard a voice, 'Believe no more,'
And heard an ever-breaking sh.o.r.e That tumbled in the G.o.dless deep.”
”As slopes a wild brook o'er a little stone, Running too vehemently to break upon it.”
”Whole, like a crag that tumbles from the cliff, And like a crag was gay with wilding flowers; And high above a piece of turret stair, Worn by the feet that now were silent, would Bare to the sun, and monstrous ivy-stems Claspt the gray walls with hairy-fibered arms, And suck'd the joining of the stones, and look'd A knot, beneath, of snakes; aloft, a grove.”
”For as a leaf in mid-November is To what it was in mid-October, seem'd The dress that now she look'd on to the dress She look'd on ere the coming of Geraint.”
”That had a sapling growing on it, slip From the long sh.o.r.e-cliff's windy walls to the beach, And there lie still, and yet the sapling grew: So lay the man transfixt.”
”For one That listens near a torrent mountain-brook, All thro' the crash of the near cataract hears The drumming thunder of the huger fall At distance, were the soldiers wont to hear His voice in battle, and be kindled by it.”
”And in the moment after, wild Limours, Borne on a black horse, like a thunder-cloud Whose skirts are loosen'd by the breaking storm, Half ridden off with by the thing he rode, And all in pa.s.sion, uttering a dry shriek, Dash'd on Geraint”
<script>