Maud, Locksley hall, and other poems . an angry dream this kindlier glowFaded with morning, but his purpose held. Yet once by night again the lovers met,A perilous meeting under the tall pinesThat darkend all the northward of her , to her meek and modest bosom prestIn agony, she promised that no , no, nor death, could alter her:He, passionately hopefuller, would go,L,abour for his own Edith, and returnIn siich a sunlight of prosperityHe should not be rejected. Write to me !They loved me, and because I love their childThey hate me : there is war between us, dea
Maud, Locksley hall, and other poems . an angry dream this kindlier glowFaded with morning, but his purpose held. Yet once by night again the lovers met,A perilous meeting under the tall pinesThat darkend all the northward of her , to her meek and modest bosom prestIn agony, she promised that no , no, nor death, could alter her:He, passionately hopefuller, would go,L,abour for his own Edith, and returnIn siich a sunlight of prosperityHe should not be rejected. Write to me !They loved me, and because I love their childThey hate me : there is war between us, dear,Which breaks all bonds but ours ; we must remainSacred to one another. So they talkd,Poor children, for their comfort : the wind blew ;The rain of heaven, and their own bitter tears,Tears, and the careless rain of heaven, mixtUpon their faces, as thej kissd each otherIn darkness, and above them roard the pine. So Leolin went; and as we task ourselvesTo learn a language known but smatteringlyIn phrases here and there at random, toild. •A PERILOUS MEETING UNDER THE TALL PINES. () 258 Ay Inters Field. Mastering the lawless science of our law,That codeless myriad of precedent,That wilderness of single instances,Thro which a few by wit or fortune beat a pathway out to wealth and jests that flashd about the pleaders room,Ivightning of the hour, the pun, the scurrilous tale,Old scandals buried now seven decads deepIn other scandals that have lived and left the living scandal that shall die —Were dead to him already: bent as he wasTo make disproof of scorn, and strong in hopes,And prodigal of all brain-labour of sleep, and wine, and exercise,Except when for a breathing-while at eve,Some niggard fraction of an hour, he ranBeside the river-bank : and then indeedHarder the times were, and the hands of powerWere bloodier, and the according hearts of menSeenid harder too ; but the soft river-breeze,Which fannd the gardens of that rival roseYet
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