The Cambridge book of poetry and song . growing. Oil, the fluttering and the pattering of those green things growing!How they talk each to each, when none of us are knowing;In the wonderful white of the weird moonlightOr the dim dreamy dawn when the cocks are crowing. I love, I love them so,— my greenthings growing! And I think that they love me, with-out false showing; For by many a tender touch, theycomfort me so mucli. With the soft mute comfort of greenthings growing. And in the rich store of their blos-soms glowing Ten for one 1 take theyre on me be-stowing: Oh, I should like to see, if G
The Cambridge book of poetry and song . growing. Oil, the fluttering and the pattering of those green things growing!How they talk each to each, when none of us are knowing;In the wonderful white of the weird moonlightOr the dim dreamy dawn when the cocks are crowing. I love, I love them so,— my greenthings growing! And I think that they love me, with-out false showing; For by many a tender touch, theycomfort me so mucli. With the soft mute comfort of greenthings growing. And in the rich store of their blos-soms glowing Ten for one 1 take theyre on me be-stowing: Oh, I should like to see, if Gods willit may be. Many, many a sunmier of my greenthings growing! But if I must be gathered for the an-gels sowing. Sleep out of sight awhile, like thegreen things growing. Though dust to dust return, I thinkIll scarcely mourn, If I may change into green thingsgrowing. NOW AND AFTERWARDS. Two hands upon the breast. And labors done;Two pale feet crossed in rest,—The race is won;Two eyes with coin-weights shut, And all tears cease;. PLIGHTED. Page i/i. CRAIK. 171 Two lips where grief is mute,Anger at peace;So pray we oftentimes, mourning our lotGod in his kindness answereth not. Two hands to work addrest Aye for His praise;Two feet that never rest Walking His ways;Two eyes that look aboveThrough all their tears;Two lips still breathing wrath, nor fears; So pray we afterwards, low on oiu knees;Pardon those erring prayers! Father,hear these! PLIGHTED. Mine to the core of the heart, my beauty!Mine, all mine, and for love, not duty:Love given willingly, full and free,Love for loves sake,— as mine to a slave that keeps the Love, the master, goes in and outOf his goodly chambers with song and as he please, — just as he please. Mine, from the dear heads crown,brown-golden. To the silken foot thats scarce be-holden ; Give to a few friends hand or smile, Like a generous lady, now the sanctuary heart, that nonedare win. Keep ho
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, booksubjectenglishpoetry, bookye
