. Bryant. Poems from the works of William Cullen Bryant. ht, she said, and led the wayTo where a window of pellucid ice Ran the lithe jessamine, with stalk Stood in the wall of snow, beside and leafColorless as her flowers. Go softly on,Said the snow-maiden; touch not, with thy hand,The frail creation round thee, and bewareTo sweep it with thy skirts. Now look sumptuously these bowers are lighted upWith shifting gleams that softly come and go! their , but thou mayst not enter. Eva looked,And lo ! a glorious hall, from whose high vaultStripes of soft light, ruddy and delicate
. Bryant. Poems from the works of William Cullen Bryant. ht, she said, and led the wayTo where a window of pellucid ice Ran the lithe jessamine, with stalk Stood in the wall of snow, beside and leafColorless as her flowers. Go softly on,Said the snow-maiden; touch not, with thy hand,The frail creation round thee, and bewareTo sweep it with thy skirts. Now look sumptuously these bowers are lighted upWith shifting gleams that softly come and go! their , but thou mayst not enter. Eva looked,And lo ! a glorious hall, from whose high vaultStripes of soft light, ruddy and delicate green,And tender blue, flowed downward to the floorAnd far around, as if the aerial hosts,That march on high by night, with beamy spears, 70 BRYANT. And streaming banners, to that place I Whirled in a merry dance to silveryhad brought sounds, Their radiant flags to grace a in that hall a joyous multitudeOf those by whom its glistening wallswere reared, That rang from cymbals of trans-parent ice, And ice-cups, quivering to the skilfultouch. Of little fingers. Round and roundthey flew, As when, in spring, about a chimney-top, A cloud of twittering swallows, justreturned, Wheel round and round, and turnand wheel again. Unwinding their swift track. Sorapidly And there stood Eva, wondering atthe sight Of those bright revellers and thatgraceful sweep Of motion as they passed her;—longshe gazed, And listened long to the sweetsounds that thrilled The frosty air, till now the encroach-ing cold Flowed the meandering stream of I Recalled her to herself. Too long, that fair dance, too long Beneath that dome of light. Bright | I linger here, she said, and then she eyes that looked sprang From under lily-brows, and gauzy ! Into the path, and with a hurried scarfs step Sparkling like snow-wreaths in the Followed it upward. Ever by her early sun, side Shot by the window in their mazy Her little guide kept pace. As on whirl. they went, 71 LEAFESQ^ FROM STANDARD AUTHORS. Eva bemo
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookidbryantpoemsf, bookyear1884
