Classic and Contemporary Poetry
A WINTER SONG; TO ALICE MEYNELL, by HERBERT TRENCH Poet's Biography First Line: Lady, through grasses stiff with rime Last Line: Of rapture! Subject(s): Meynell, Alice (1847-1922); Winter | ||||||||
LADY, through grasses stiff with rime And wraith-hung trees I wander Where the red sun at pitch of prime Half of his might must squander. Narrow the track As I look back On traces green behind me, -- I go alone To think upon A face, where none Shall find me. Birds peal; but each grim grove its shroud Retains, as to betoken Though the young lawn should wave off cloud These would have Night unbroken, -- Desire no plash Of the Lake awash -- No gold but gold that's glinted In still device From the breast of ice Whose summer cries Have stinted. But in a great and glittering space The black Elm doth restore me To you. Empower'd with patient grace Musing she stands before me; Her webs divine Ghosted with fine Remembrance few can capture; Her very shade On greenness laid Is white, -- is made Of rapture! | Other Poems of Interest...LOOKING EAST IN THE WINTER by JOHN HOLLANDER WINTER DISTANCES by FANNY HOWE WINTER FORECAST by JOSEPHINE JACOBSEN AT WINTER'S EDGE by JUDY JORDAN |
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