Maud, Locksley hall, and other poems . my neighbours ground. The modern Muses read Botanic Treatises, And Works on Gardening thro there,And Methods of transplanting trees To look as if they grew there. i62 Amphion. The witherd Misses ! how they prose Oer books of travelld seamen,And show you slips of all that grows From England to Van read in arbours dipt and cut, And alleys, faded places,By squares of tropic summer shut And warmd in crystal cases. But these, tho fed with careful dirt, Are neither green nor sappy ;Half-conscious of the garden-squirt, The spindlings loo
Maud, Locksley hall, and other poems . my neighbours ground. The modern Muses read Botanic Treatises, And Works on Gardening thro there,And Methods of transplanting trees To look as if they grew there. i62 Amphion. The witherd Misses ! how they prose Oer books of travelld seamen,And show you slips of all that grows From England to Van read in arbours dipt and cut, And alleys, faded places,By squares of tropic summer shut And warmd in crystal cases. But these, tho fed with careful dirt, Are neither green nor sappy ;Half-conscious of the garden-squirt, The spindlings look to me the meanest weed That blows upon its vilest herb that runs to seed Beside its native fountain. And I must work thro months of toil, And years of my proper patch of soil To grow my own take the showers as they fall, I will not vex my bosom :Enough if at the end of all A little garden blossom. ST. AGNES EVE. Deep on the couveiit-roof the snowsAre sparkling to the moon :. P ON THE CONVENT-ROOF THE SNOWS ARE SPARKLING TO THE MOON. My breath to heaven like vapour goes :May my soul follow soon ! (163) 164 SL Agnes^ Eve. The shadows of the convent-towers Slant down the snowy sward,Still creeping with the creeping hours That lead me to my Lord :Make Thou my spirit pure and clear As are the frosty skies,Or this first snowdrop of the year That in my bosom lies. As these white robes are soild and dark. To yonder shining ground ;As this pale tapers earthly spark, To 3onder argent round ;So shows my soul before the Lamb, My spirit before Thee;So in mine earthly house I am, To that I hope to eak up the heavens, O Lord ! and far, Thro all yon starlight me, thy bride, a glittering star. In raiment white and clean. He lifts me to the golden doors ; The flashes come and go ;All heaven bursts her starry floors, And strows her lights below, SL Ag-nes Eve. 165 And deepens on and up ! the gates Roll back, and far wit
Size: 1625px × 1538px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookauthortennysonalfredtennyso, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890
