A wind sways the pines, …
George Meredith
Pitch here the tent, while the old horse grazes: …
Under yonder beech-tree single on the green-sward, …
On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose. …
What links are ours with orbs that are …
What are we first? First, animals; and next …
By this he knew she wept with waking eyes: …
It ended, and the morrow brought the task. …
He felt the wild beast in him betweenwhiles …
Thus piteously Love closed what he begat: …
Yet it was plain she struggled, and that salt …
What soul would bargain for a cure that brings …
He found her by the ocean’s moaning verge, …
At last we parley: we so strangely dumb …
Their sense is with their senses all mixed in, …
In our old shipwrecked days there was an hour, …
I am not of those miserable males …
What may the woman labour to confess? …
Love ere he bleeds, an eagle in high skies, …
Madam would speak with me. So, now it comes: …
They have no song, the sedges dry, …