'S LAST
QUESTION
284
POEMS
_THE ROMAUNT OF MARGRET.
POEMS
_THE ROMAUNT OF MARGRET.
Elizabeth Browning
B.
BARRETT ***
Produced by Thierry Alberto, Chandra Friend and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www. pgdp. net
THE POETICAL WORKS
OF
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING
_In Six Volumes_
VOL. II.
LONDON
SMITH, ELDER, & CO. , 15 WATERLOO PLACE
1890
CONTENTS.
PAGE
THE ROMAUNT OF MARGRET 3
ISOBEL'S CHILD 15
THE ROMAUNT OF THE PAGE 40
THE LAY OF THE BROWN ROSARY.
FIRST PART 57
SECOND PART 63
THIRD PART 72
FOURTH PART 80
A ROMANCE OF THE GANGES 83
RHYME OF THE DUCHESS MAY 94
THE RHYME 96
THE ROMANCE OF THE SWAN'S NEST 132
BERTHA IN THE LANE 138
LADY GERALDINE'S COURTSHIP 150
THE RUNAWAY SLAVE AT PILGRIM'S POINT 192
THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN 205
A CHILD ASLEEP 213
THE FOURFOLD ASPECT 217
NIGHT AND THE MERRY MAN.
NIGHT 223
THE MERRY MAN 224
EARTH AND HER PRAISERS 229
THE VIRGIN MARY TO THE CHILD JESUS 239
AN ISLAND 248
THE SOUL'S TRAVELLING 259
TO BETTINE, THE CHILD-FRIEND OF GOETHE 270
MAN AND NATURE 274
A SEA-SIDE WALK 276
THE SEA-MEW 278
FELICIA HEMANS TO L. E. L. 281
L. E. L.
'S LAST QUESTION 284
POEMS
_THE ROMAUNT OF MARGRET. _
Can my affections find out nothing best,
But still and still remove?
QUARLES.
I.
I plant a tree whose leaf
The yew-tree leaf will suit:
But when its shade is o'er you laid,
Turn round and pluck the fruit.
Now reach my harp from off the wall
Where shines the sun aslant;
The sun may shine and we be cold!
O hearken, loving hearts and bold,
Unto my wild romaunt.
Margret, Margret.
II.
Sitteth the fair ladye
Close to the river side
Which runneth on with a merry tone
Her merry thoughts to guide:
It runneth through the trees,
It runneth by the hill,
Nathless the lady's thoughts have found
A way more pleasant still
Margret, Margret.
III.
The night is in her hair
And giveth shade to shade,
And the pale moonlight on her forehead white
Like a spirit's hand is laid;
Her lips part with a smile
Instead of speakings done:
I ween, she thinketh of a voice,
Albeit uttering none.
Margret, Margret.
IV.
All little birds do sit
With heads beneath their wings:
Nature doth seem in a mystic dream,
Absorbed from her living things:
That dream by that ladye
Is certes unpartook,
For she looketh to the high cold stars
With a tender human look
Margret, Margret.
V.
Produced by Thierry Alberto, Chandra Friend and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www. pgdp. net
THE POETICAL WORKS
OF
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING
_In Six Volumes_
VOL. II.
LONDON
SMITH, ELDER, & CO. , 15 WATERLOO PLACE
1890
CONTENTS.
PAGE
THE ROMAUNT OF MARGRET 3
ISOBEL'S CHILD 15
THE ROMAUNT OF THE PAGE 40
THE LAY OF THE BROWN ROSARY.
FIRST PART 57
SECOND PART 63
THIRD PART 72
FOURTH PART 80
A ROMANCE OF THE GANGES 83
RHYME OF THE DUCHESS MAY 94
THE RHYME 96
THE ROMANCE OF THE SWAN'S NEST 132
BERTHA IN THE LANE 138
LADY GERALDINE'S COURTSHIP 150
THE RUNAWAY SLAVE AT PILGRIM'S POINT 192
THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN 205
A CHILD ASLEEP 213
THE FOURFOLD ASPECT 217
NIGHT AND THE MERRY MAN.
NIGHT 223
THE MERRY MAN 224
EARTH AND HER PRAISERS 229
THE VIRGIN MARY TO THE CHILD JESUS 239
AN ISLAND 248
THE SOUL'S TRAVELLING 259
TO BETTINE, THE CHILD-FRIEND OF GOETHE 270
MAN AND NATURE 274
A SEA-SIDE WALK 276
THE SEA-MEW 278
FELICIA HEMANS TO L. E. L. 281
L. E. L.
'S LAST QUESTION 284
POEMS
_THE ROMAUNT OF MARGRET. _
Can my affections find out nothing best,
But still and still remove?
QUARLES.
I.
I plant a tree whose leaf
The yew-tree leaf will suit:
But when its shade is o'er you laid,
Turn round and pluck the fruit.
Now reach my harp from off the wall
Where shines the sun aslant;
The sun may shine and we be cold!
O hearken, loving hearts and bold,
Unto my wild romaunt.
Margret, Margret.
II.
Sitteth the fair ladye
Close to the river side
Which runneth on with a merry tone
Her merry thoughts to guide:
It runneth through the trees,
It runneth by the hill,
Nathless the lady's thoughts have found
A way more pleasant still
Margret, Margret.
III.
The night is in her hair
And giveth shade to shade,
And the pale moonlight on her forehead white
Like a spirit's hand is laid;
Her lips part with a smile
Instead of speakings done:
I ween, she thinketh of a voice,
Albeit uttering none.
Margret, Margret.
IV.
All little birds do sit
With heads beneath their wings:
Nature doth seem in a mystic dream,
Absorbed from her living things:
That dream by that ladye
Is certes unpartook,
For she looketh to the high cold stars
With a tender human look
Margret, Margret.
V.
