Poems — Volume 2 by George Meredith
page 266 of 296 (89%)
page 266 of 296 (89%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
Almost as whitebeam, threw,
From the under of leaf upright, Flecks like a showering snow On the flame-shaped junipers green, On the sombre mounds of the yew. Like silvery tapers bright By a solemn cathedral screen, They glistened to closer view. Turf for a rooks' revel striped Pleased those devourers astute. Chorister blackbird and thrush Together or alternate piped; A free-hearted harmony large, With meaning for man, for brute, When the primitive forces are brimmed. Like featherings hither and yon Of aery tree-twigs over marge, To the comb of the winds, untrimmed, Their measure is found in the vast. Grief heard them, and stepped her way on. She has but a narrow embrace. Distrustful of hearing she passed. They piped her young Earth's Bacchic rout; The race, and the prize of the race; Earth's lustihead pressing to sprout. But sight holds a soberer space. Colourless dogwood low Curled up a twisted root, Nigh yellow-green mosses, to flush |
|