The Argosy . rn, so lightly flung, Lodged in a crevice lined with earth, and spread Its fairy fronds, until aloft it a welcome to the newly wed. Irene sighed—had she not all she sought ? A lord of peerless beauty ; stainless birth ;Soft eastern eyes, and winning smiles that brought A sunlight more than Eden to the earth. Yes! birth and beauty: all but heart was there. The lofty brow, arched lip and rosy deepest love adjure a form so fair, And still the smiling statue never speak ? Thus all Irenes love was backward thrownTo clog and canker at the withered heart; For ever w
The Argosy . rn, so lightly flung, Lodged in a crevice lined with earth, and spread Its fairy fronds, until aloft it a welcome to the newly wed. Irene sighed—had she not all she sought ? A lord of peerless beauty ; stainless birth ;Soft eastern eyes, and winning smiles that brought A sunlight more than Eden to the earth. Yes! birth and beauty: all but heart was there. The lofty brow, arched lip and rosy deepest love adjure a form so fair, And still the smiling statue never speak ? Thus all Irenes love was backward thrownTo clog and canker at the withered heart; For ever with him and for ever lone ;United, yet, in dearest life, apart. And, resting on a shelving seat, she spiedThe fragile fern thus waving overhead : Green image of my sunless life, she cried ; Your hand, St. Clair, can reach its yielding bed. The trifling treasure may be valued most; Pluck it entire; this little boon I crave ;For well my father loved this Cambrian coast; I go to plant it on his Southern 76 G. B. Stuart. TN mid-August in the West Country there are but two colours^ largely represented in nature : the yellow tints of wheat, oatsand barley, and the blue of the sea which fills in all the rest of thepicture. Overhead there is blue—pale turquoise—and green isnowhere. It is not a land of trees, for Dartmoor is close behind, and suchgroups of pines as have been planted to shelter the farm-houses lookalmost black in the noontide sun. Miles on miles there are of theseupland harvest fields, divided by narrow lanes and stone walls thatseem held together only by the hundreds of tiny ferns and creepingthings that grow, and seed, and wither, and spring up again athousand-fold more lustily every year. It seems as if it weregenerally high noon on our sea-girt high lands, with the wheat-fieldslike burnished gold against the sky. All last summer Poppy Williams used to flit about the narrowlanes between the corn-fields, carrying her red umbrella, which couldbe s
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Keywords: ., bookauthorwoodhenr, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1860, bookyear1865
