Part 10 (1/2)

”And in the meadows tremulous aspen-trees And poplars made a noise of falling showers.”

”No greatness, save it be some far-off touch Of greatness to know well I am not great.”

”Hurt in the side, whereat she caught her breath; Through her own side she felt the sharp lance go.”

”Rankled in him and ruffled all his heart, As the sharp wind that ruffles all day long A little bitter pool about a stone On the bare coast.”

”Thy shadow still would glide from room to room, And I should evermore be vext with thee In hanging robe or vacant ornament, Or ghostly footfall echoing on the stair.”

”Far off a solitary trumpet blew.

Then, waiting by the doors, the war-horse neigh'd As at a friend's voice, and he spake again.”

”Through the thick night I hear the trumpet blow.”

”And slipt aside, and like a wounded life Crept down into the hollows of the wood.”

”Then Philip, with his eyes Full of that lifelong hunger, and his voice Shaking a little like a drunkard's hand.”

”Had he not Spoken with That, which being everywhere Lets none, who speaks with Him, seem all alone, Surely the man had died of solitude.”

”Because things seen are mightier than things heard.”

”For sure no gladlier does the stranded wreck See through the gray skirts of a lifting squall The boat that bears the hope of life approach To save the life despair'd of, than he saw Death dawning on him, and the close of all.”

”And he lay tranced; but when he rose and paced Back toward his solitary home again, All down the narrow street he went, Beating it in upon his weary brain, As though it were the burthen of a song, 'Not to tell her, never to let her know.'”

”Torn as a sail that leaves the rope is torn In tempest.”

”Nay, one there is, and at the eastern end, Wealthy with wandering lines of mount and mere.”

”p.r.i.c.k'd with incredible pinnacles into heaven.”

”An out-door sign of all the warmth within, Smiled with his lips--a smile beneath a cloud; But Heaven had meant it for a sunny one.”

”All the old echoes hidden in the wall.”

”Their plumes driv'n backward by the wind they made In moving, all together down upon him Bare, as a wild wave in the wide North sea, Green-glimmering toward the summit, bears, with all Its stormy crests that smoke against the skies, Down on a bark, and overbears the bark, And him that helms it, so they overbore Sir Lancelot and his charger.”

”There lies a vale in Ida, lovelier Than all the valleys of Ionian hills.

The swimming vapor slopes athwart the glen, Puts forth an arm, and creeps from pine to pine, And loiters, slowly drawn. On either hand The lawns and meadow-ledges midway down Hang rich in flowers, and far below them roars The long brook falling through the clov'n ravine In cataract after cataract to the sea.

Behind the valley topmost Gargarus Stands up and takes the morning; but in front The gorges, opening wide apart, reveal Troas and Ilion's column'd citadel, The crown of Troas.”

”One seem'd all dark and red--a tract of sand, And some one pacing there alone, Who paced forever in a glimmering land, Lit with a low large moon.

One show'd an iron coast and angry waves.

You seem'd to hear them climb and fall And roar rock-thwarted under bellowing caves, Beneath the windy wall.

And one, a full-fed river winding slow By herds upon an endless plain, The ragged rims of thunder brooding low, With shadow-streaks of rain.