The Poems of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Volume 2

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Page 246 - We looked into the pit prepared to take her: Was no room for any work in the close clay! From the sleep wherein she lieth none will wake her, Crying, 'Get up, little Alice! it is day.' If you listen by that grave, in sun and shower, With your ear down, little Alice never cries; Could we see her face, be sure we should not know her, For the smile has time for growing in her eyes: And merry go her moments, lulled and stilled in The shroud by the kirk -chime. It is good when it happens," say the children,...
Page 247 - we are weary And we cannot run or leap; If we cared for any meadows, it were merely To drop down in them and sleep. Our knees tremble sorely in the stooping, We fall upon our faces, trying to go; And, underneath our heavy eyelids drooping The reddest flower would look as pale as snow. For, all d;.y, we drag our burden tiring Through the coal-dark, underground; Or, all day, we drive the wheels of iron In the factories, round and round.
Page 248 - For all day the wheels are droning, turning; Their wind comes in our faces, Till our hearts turn, our heads with pulses burning, And the walls turn in their places. Turns the sky in the high window, blank and reeling, Turns the long light that drops adown the wall, Turn the black flies that crawl along the ceiling; All are turning, all the day — and we with all. And all day the iron wheels are droning, And sometimes we could pray, "O ye wheels' (breaking out in a mad moaning), 'Stop!
Page 246 - is very dreary, Our young feet,
Page 250 - And well may the children weep before you ; They are weary ere they run ; They have never seen the sunshine, nor the glory Which is brighter than the sun : They know the grief of man, without his wisdom ; They sink in man's despair, without its calm — Are slaves, without the liberty in Christdom, Are martyrs, by the pang without the palm...
Page 225 - And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed around our incompleteness, — Round our restlessness, his rest.
Page 209 - And the bridegroom led the flight on his red-roan steed of might, Toll slowly . And the bride lay on his arm, still, as if she feared no harm, Smiling out into the night. ' Dost thou fear ? ' he said at last ; —
Page 85 - A child's kiss Set on thy sighing lips shall make thee glad ; A poor man served by thee shall make thee rich ; A sick man helped by thee shall make thee strong; Thou shalt be served thyself by every sense Of service which thou renderest.
Page 298 - And the first time I will send A white rosebud for a guerdon, And the second time a glove; But the third time I may bend From my pride and answer—' Pardon, If he comes to take my love.
Page 298 - Then, ay, then he shall kneel low, With the red-roan steed anear him, Which shall seem to understand, Till I answer, 'Rise and go.' For the world must love and fear him Whom I gift with heart and hand.

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