Poems Real and Ideal By George Barlow |
XIV. |
XVII. |
XIX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
XXIX. |
XXX. |
SONNET XXX.
IN ST. JAMES'S PARK. |
XLIV, XLV, XLVI. |
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XLVII. |
LI. |
LIV. |
LVII. |
LIX. |
IV. |
II. |
IV. |
VI. |
VII. |
I. |
II. |
XX. |
XXI. |
I. |
II. |
IX. |
XII. |
XXII. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
Poems Real and Ideal | ||
74
SONNET XXX. IN ST. JAMES'S PARK.
I watched the towers of Westminster shine grey
Across the Park, beneath an April sun:
The trees their first fresh verdure just had won:
I thought of all those silent towers could say;—
Of many a wild and blood-stained former day
And grim deeds by the Thames' grey margin done;
I called up English crowned heads one by one;
I thought of Whitehall: and of Fotheringay.
Across the Park, beneath an April sun:
The trees their first fresh verdure just had won:
I thought of all those silent towers could say;—
Of many a wild and blood-stained former day
And grim deeds by the Thames' grey margin done;
I called up English crowned heads one by one;
I thought of Whitehall: and of Fotheringay.
I mused:—Then lifted up my head and lo!
A girl was passing by, in jacket brown
Of soft stamped velvet,—she passed, looking down,
And towards historic Westminster did go:
After awhile I rose, and followed slow:
What drew me?—Westminster, or fluttering gown?
A girl was passing by, in jacket brown
Of soft stamped velvet,—she passed, looking down,
And towards historic Westminster did go:
After awhile I rose, and followed slow:
What drew me?—Westminster, or fluttering gown?
Poems Real and Ideal | ||