Denzil place a story in verse. By Violet Fane [i.e. M. M. Lamb] |
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 | Denzil place |  |
They linger'd on till almost eventide,
Constance, unconsciously, whilst Roland play'd,
Lost in her aimless, nameless, day-dreaming,
And building many castles in the air.
Her years, so few, so pure, so soon arrang'd
Into this unemotional, dull, shape,
Not to be chang'd, had never known as yet
Those violent alternate lights and shades
Which many lives have weather'd, yet at times
She seem'd to feel the spray of coming storms,
Or bask beneath the rays of unknown suns,
Whilst something softly whisper'd to her heart
That life as yet had not begun for her—
She seemed to wait, and often with a smile
She woke to chide her foolish maiden-dreams
And wonder'd how she ever could forget
That she had been the wife of good Sir John
For three whole years, and liv'd at Farleigh Court.
Constance, unconsciously, whilst Roland play'd,
Lost in her aimless, nameless, day-dreaming,
And building many castles in the air.
Her years, so few, so pure, so soon arrang'd
Into this unemotional, dull, shape,
Not to be chang'd, had never known as yet
Those violent alternate lights and shades
Which many lives have weather'd, yet at times
She seem'd to feel the spray of coming storms,
Or bask beneath the rays of unknown suns,
Whilst something softly whisper'd to her heart
That life as yet had not begun for her—
She seemed to wait, and often with a smile
She woke to chide her foolish maiden-dreams
And wonder'd how she ever could forget
That she had been the wife of good Sir John
For three whole years, and liv'd at Farleigh Court.
| Denzil place | |