Fables in Song By Robert Lord Lytton |
I. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. | XII.
COMPOSURE. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
II. |
Fables in Song | ||
79
XII. COMPOSURE.
1
Seaward from east to west a river roll'd,Majestic as the sun whose course it follow'd,
Filling with liquid quiet of clear cold
The depths its husht waves hollow'd.
2
No wrinkle ruffled that serene expanse;Till, percht atiptoe on its placid path,
A tiny rock the surface pierced by chance,
Whereat it foam'd with wrath.
3
Over the depths, indifferent, smooth of pace,The current with continuous calm had crost.
Yet lo, a little pinscratch in the face,
All its repose was lost!
Fables in Song | ||