Weary at heart with winter yesterday,
I sought the fields for something green to see,
Some budded turf or mossbank quietly
Uncovered in the sweet familiar way.
Crossing a pasture slope that sunward lay,
I suddenly surprised beneath a tree
A girlish...
O
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She leaned her cheek upon her hand,
And looked across the glooming land;
She saw the wood from farm to farm
Touched by the twilight’s ghostly charm;
And heard the owl’s cry sound forlorn
Across the fields of waving corn,
And sighed with sad voice... -
The eagle of the armies of the West,
Dying upon his alp, near to the sky,
Through the slow days that paled the imperial eye,
But could not tame the proud fire of his breast,—
Gone with the mighty pathos! Only rest
Remains where passed that struggle stern...