. Home school of American literature: . r ! Look at her garmentsClinging like cerements;While the wave constantlyDrips from her clothing;Take her up , not loathing.— Touch her not scornfully;Think of her mournfully,Gently and humanly;Not of the stains of her,All that remains of herNow is pure womanly. Make no deep scrutinyInto her mutinyRash and undutiful: Past all dishonor,Death has left on herOnly the beautiful. Still, for all slips of hers,One of Eves family,—Wipe those poor lips of so clammily. Loop up her tressesEscaped from the comb,Her fair auburn tresses ;Wh
. Home school of American literature: . r ! Look at her garmentsClinging like cerements;While the wave constantlyDrips from her clothing;Take her up , not loathing.— Touch her not scornfully;Think of her mournfully,Gently and humanly;Not of the stains of her,All that remains of herNow is pure womanly. Make no deep scrutinyInto her mutinyRash and undutiful: Past all dishonor,Death has left on herOnly the beautiful. Still, for all slips of hers,One of Eves family,—Wipe those poor lips of so clammily. Loop up her tressesEscaped from the comb,Her fair auburn tresses ;Whilst wonderment guesses,Where was her home ? Who was her father ?Who was her mother ?Had she a sister?Had she a brother ?Or was there a dearer oneStill, and a nearer oneYet, than all other? • Alas ! for the rarityOf Christian charityUnder the sun ! I THOMAS HOOD. 595 Oh ! it was pitiful!Near a whole city full,Home had she none. Sisterly, brotherly,Fatherly, motherly,Feelings had changed :Love, by harsh evidence, t.;^;^---,5?i»!l. Take her up tenderly;Lift her with care. Thrown from its eminence ;Even Gods providenceSeeming estranged. Where the lamps quiver So far in the river. With many a light From window and casement, From garret to basement, She stood, with amazement. Houseless by night. The bleak wind of MarchMade her tremble and shiver ;But not the dark the black flowing river:Mad from lifes history,Glad to deaths to be hurld—Anywhere, of the world ! In she plunged boldly,No matter how coldlyThe rough river ran,—Over the brink of it, think of Man !Lave in it, drink of it,Then, if you can ! Take her up her with care;Fashiond so slenderly,Young, and so fair ! Ere her limbs frigidlyStiffen too ,—kindly,—Smooth, and compose them;And her eyes close them,Staring so blindly ! ■ Dreadfully staringThro muddy when with the daringLast look of despairingFixd on futurit
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Keywords: ., bo, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, booksubjectenglishliterature
