“when queen Guinever of Britain was a little wench.” LOVE’S LABOUR ’S LOST
Collection:
Little Guinever
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“behold another singer!” Criton said, And sneered, and in his sneering turned the leaf: “Who reads the poets now? They are past and dead: Give me for their vain work unrhymed relief.” A laugh went round. Meanwhile the last ripe sheaf Of corn was garnered, and the summer birds Stilled their dear... |
The bright sea washed beneath her feet, As it had done of yore, The well-remembered odor sweet Came through her opening door. Again the grass his ripened head Bowed where her raiment swept; Again the fog-bell told of dread, And all the landscape wept. Again beside the woodland bars She... |
“when queen Guinever of Britain was a little wench.” LOVE’S LABOUR ’S LOST |
Ay! unto thee belong The pipe and song, Theocritus,— Loved by the satyr and the faun! To thee the olive and the vine, To thee the Mediterranean pine, And the soft lapping sea! Thine, Bacchus, Thine, the blood-red revels, Thine, the bearded goat! Soft valleys unto thee, And Aphrodite’s shrine,... |
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I waked; the sun was in the sky, The face of heaven was fair; The silence all about me lay, Of morning in the air. I said, Where hast thou been, my soul, Since the moon set in the west? I know not where thy feet have trod, Nor what has been thy quest. Where wast thou when Orion past... |