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25. | [XXV. By this low fire I often sit to woo] |
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![]() | Poems by Frederick Goddard Tuckerman | ![]() |
195
[XXV. By this low fire I often sit to woo]
By this low fire I often sit to wooMemory to bring the days for ever done;
And call the mountains, where our love begun,
And the dear happy woodlands dipped in dew;
And pore upon the landscape, like a book,
But cannot find her: or there rise to me
Gardens and groves in light and shadow outspread:
Or, on a headland far away, I see
Men marching slow in orderly review;
And bayonets flash, as, wheeling from the sun,
Rank after rank give fire; or, sad, I look
On miles of moonlit brine, with many a bed
Of wave-weed heaving,—there, the wet sands shine
And just awash, the low reef lifts its line.
![]() | Poems by Frederick Goddard Tuckerman | ![]() |