large/10173/early_poems_1509_librivox_64kb_mp3/earlypoems_09_lowell_64kb_9
large/10173/early_poems_1509_librivox_64kb_mp3/earlypoems_09_lowell_64kb
English
10173
My heart is with them as they sit, I see the rosebud in her breast, I see her small hand taking it From out its odorous, snowy nest; I hear him swear that he will keep it, In memory of that blessed day, To smile on it or over weep it When she and spring are far away. MY HEART IS WITH THEM AS THEY SIT I SEE THE ROSEBUD IN HER BREAST I SEE HER SMALL HAND TAKING IT FROM OUT ITS ODOROUS SNOWY NEST I HEAR HIM SWEAR THAT HE WILL KEEP IT IN MEMORY OF THAT BLESSED DAY TO SMILE ON IT OR OVERWEEP IT WHEN SHE AND SPRING ARE FAR AWAY
 is lifted That hangs between the soul and pain, Too soon the morning-red hath drifted Into dull cloud, or fallen in rain! Or were you prest by one who nurst Bleak memories of love gone by, Whose heart, like a star fallen, burst In dark and erring vacancy? To him you still were fresh and green As when you grew upon the stalk, And many a breezy summer scene Came back--and many a moonlit walk; And there would be a hum of bees, A smell of childhood in the air, And old, fresh feelings cooled the breeze That, like loved fingers, stirred his hair! Then would you suddenly be blasted By the keen wind of one dark thought, One nameless woe, that had outlasted The sudden blow whereby 'twas brought. Or were you prest here by two lovers Who seemed to read these verses rare, But found between the antique covers What Spenser could not prison there: Songs which his glorious soul had heard, But his dull pen could never write, Which flew, like some gold-wingèd bird, Through the blue heaven out of sight? RT ALAS TOO SOON THE VEIL IS LIFTED THAT HANGS BETWEEN THE SOUL AND PAIN TOO SOON THE MORNING RED HATH DRIFTED INTO DULL CLOUD OR FALLEN IN RAIN OR WERE YOU PRESSED BY ONE WHO NURSED BLEAK MEMORIES OF LOVE GONE BY WHOSE HEART LIKE A STAR FALLEN BURST IN DARK AND ERRING VACANCY TO HIM YOU STILL WERE FRESH AND GREEN AS WHEN YOU GREW UPON THE STALK AND MANY A BREEZY SUMMER SCENE CAME BACK AND MANY A MOONLIT WALK AND THERE WOULD BE A HUM OF BEES A SMELL OF CHILDHOOD IN THE AIR AND OLD FRESH FEELINGS COOLED THE BREEZE THAT LIKE LOVED FINGERS STIRRED HIS HAIR THEN WOULD YOU SUDDENLY BE BLASTED BY THE KEEN WIND OF ONE DARK THOUGHT ONE NAMELESS WOE THAT HAD OUTLASTED THE SUDDEN BLOW WHEREBY TWAS BROUGHT OR WERE YOU PRESSED HERE BY TWO LOVERS WHO SEEMED TO READ THESE VERSES RARE BUT FOUND BETWEEN THE ANTI COVERS WHAT SPENCER COULD NOT PRISON THERE SONGS WHICH HIS GLORIOUS SOUL HAD HEARD BUT HIS DULL PEN COULD NEVER WRITE WHICH FLEW LIKE SOME GOLD WINGED BIRD THROUGH THE BLUE HEAVEN OUT OF SIGHT
large/10173/early_poems_1509_librivox_64kb_mp3/earlypoems_09_lowell_64kb
file
download/librilight/large/10173/early_poems_1509_librivox_64kb_mp3/earlypoems_09_lowell_64kb.flac