File:The monitions of the unseen, and poems of love and childhood (1871) (14581838519).jpg

Identifier: monitionsofunsee00inge (find matches)
Title: The monitions of the unseen, and poems of love and childhood
Year: 1871 (1870s)
Authors: Ingelow, Jean, 1820-1897
Subjects:
Publisher: Boston, Roberts brothers
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: The Library of Congress

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. 95 COLD AND QUIET. /^^OLD, my dear, — cold and quiet. In their cups on yonder lea,Cowslips fold the brown bees diet;So the moss enfoldeth thee. Plant me, plant me, O love, a lily flower —Plant at my head, I pray you, a green tree;And when our children sleep, she sighed, at the duskhour,And when the lily blossoms, O come out to me! Lost, my dear ? Lost! nay, deepest Love is that which loseth least;Through the night-time while thou sleepest, Still I watch the shrouded east. 9^ COLD AND QUIET, Near thee, near thee, my wife that aye liveth, Lost is no word for such a love as mine ;Love from her past to me a present giveth, And love itself doth comfort, making pain divine.Rest, my dear, rest. Fair showethThat which was, and not in vainSacred have I kept, God knoweth,Loves last words atween us twain. Hold by our past, my only love, my lover ;Fall not, but rise, O love, by loss of me !Boughs from our garden, white with bloom hang over.Love, now the children slumber, I come out to thee.
Text Appearing After Image:
97 A SNOW MOUNTAIN. /^^AN I make white enough my thought for thee, Or wash my words in Hght? Thou hast no mateTo sit aloft in the silence silently And twin those matchless heights undesecrate.Reverend as Lear, when, lorn of shelter, he Stood, with his old white head, surprised at fate ;Alone as Galileo, when, set free, Before the stars he mused disconsolate.Ay, and remote, as the dead lords of song. Great masters who have made us what w^e are.For thou and they have taught us how to long And feel a sacred want of the fair and far:Reign, and keep life in this our deep desire —Our only greatness is that we aspire. 5 98 SLEEP. (a woman speaks.) O SLEEP, we are beholden to thee, sleep, Thou bearest angels to us in the night. Saints out of heaven with palms. Seen by thy lightSorrow is some old tale that goeth not deep ;Love is a pouting child. Once I did sweep Through space with thee, and lo, a dazzling sight — Stars ! They came on, I felt their drawing and might;And some had dark compa

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