Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/967

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page needs to be proofread.

Across her sky he laid his hand;
And bird he starved, he stiffen'd worm;
A sightless heaven, a shaven land.
Her shivering Spring feign'd fast asleep.
The bitten buds dared not unfold:
We raced on roads and ice to keep
Thought of the girl we love from cold.

    But now the North wind ceases,
    The warm South-west awakes,
    The heavens are out in fleeces,
    And earth's green banner shakes.


775. Love's Grave

Mark where the pressing wind shoots javelin-like,
Its skeleton shadow on the broad-back'd wave!
Here is a fitting spot to dig Love's grave;
Here where the ponderous breakers plunge and strike,
And dart their hissing tongues high up the sand:
In hearing of the ocean, and in sight
Of those ribb'd wind-streaks running into white.
If I the death of Love had deeply plann'd,
I never could have made it half so sure,
As by the unblest kisses which upbraid
The full-waked sense; or failing that, degrade!
'Tis morning: but no morning can restore
What we have forfeited. I see no sin:
The wrong is mix'd. In tragic life, God wot,
No villain need be! Passions spin the plot:
We are betray'd by what is false within.