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Poems of Charles Kingsley; Containing the Saint's Tragedy, Andromeda, and Other Poems, 1848-1870
Poems of Charles Kingsley Containing the Saint's Tragedy Andromeda and Other Poems 1848-1870 Author:Charles Kingsley General Books publication date: 2009 Original publication date: 1913 Original Publisher: Milford, Oxford University Press Subjects: Drama / English, Irish, Scottish, Welsh Fiction / Classics Literary Criticism / Drama Literary Criticism / Poetry Poetry / General Poetry / American / General Poetry / English, Irish, Scottish, ... more »Welsh Notes: This is a black and white OCR reprint of the original. It has no illustrations and there may be typos or missing text. When you buy the General Books edition of this book you get free trial access to Million-Books.com where you can select from more than a million books for free. Excerpt: ELEGIACS Wearily stretches the sand to the surge, and the surge to the cloudland ; Wearily onward I ride, watching the water alone. Not as of old, like Homeric Achilles, KvSe'i yaitav, Joyous knight-errant of God, thirsting for labour and strife ; No more on magical steed borne free through the regions of ether, But, like the hack which I ride, selling my sinew for gold. Fruit-bearing autumn is gone ; let the sad quiet winter hang o'er me -- What were the spring to a soul laden with sorrow and shame ? Blossoms would fret me with beauty ; my heart has no time to bepraise them ; Grey rock, bough, surge, cloud, waken no yearning within. 10 Sing not, thou sky-lark above ! even angels pass hushed by the weeper. Scream on, ye sea-fowl! my heart echoes your desolate cry. Sweep the dry sand on, thou wild wind, to drift o'er the shell and the sea-weed ; Sea-weed and shell, like my dreams, swept down the pitiless tide. Just is the wave which uptore us ; 'tis nature's own law which condemns us ; Woe to the weak who, in pride, build on the faith of the sand ! Joy to the oak of the mountain : he trusts to the might of the rock-clefts ; Deeply he mines, and in peace feeds on the wealth of the stone. 18 DARTSIDE. 1849 I Cannot tell what you say, green leaves, I cannot tell what you say: But I know that there is a spirit in you, ...« less