My Lyrical Life Poems Old and New. By Gerald Massey |
 | 1. |
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| 2. |
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. | VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
|
|
 | My Lyrical Life |  |
297
VI.
Ah, little thinks my Lady
Of the subtle seedling sown;
But, fruitful was the silence
Where its secret life hath grown.
From human love's great ocean
It draws the nursing springs;
And 'tis fed on desert manna
That her fragrant beauty brings.
Of the subtle seedling sown;
But, fruitful was the silence
Where its secret life hath grown.
From human love's great ocean
It draws the nursing springs;
And 'tis fed on desert manna
That her fragrant beauty brings.
Ah, little thinks my Lady,
As the days and seasons roll,
How she took him by the hand,
To pass into his soul.
There she lives in a light of smiles;
And like a soft caress,
Her voice goes soothing, soothing
With a kiss of tenderness.
As the days and seasons roll,
How she took him by the hand,
To pass into his soul.
There she lives in a light of smiles;
And like a soft caress,
Her voice goes soothing, soothing
With a kiss of tenderness.
O Love, though shut without, will laugh
All barriers above;
And higher as they mount, still grows
The stature of mighty Love.
And bud by bud, the climbing seed
Into a tall tree springs!
Ah, little thinks my Lady
What the Bird in the branches sings!
All barriers above;
And higher as they mount, still grows
The stature of mighty Love.
And bud by bud, the climbing seed
Into a tall tree springs!
Ah, little thinks my Lady
What the Bird in the branches sings!
| My Lyrical Life | |