Love poems of three centuries Volume 1; 1590-1890

 
9781236187956: Love poems of three centuries Volume 1; 1590-1890
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1890 Excerpt: ... at that faithful child, Wan was the face that answering smiled; They passed the drawbridge with clattering din, Then he dropped, and only the king rode in Where his Rose of the Isles lay dying! The king blew a blast on his bugle horn: (Silence!) No answer came, but faint and forlorn An echo returned on the cold gray morn, Like the breath of a spirit sighing. The castle portal stood grimly wide, None welcomed the king from that weary ride, For dead, in the light of the dawning day, The pale sweet form of the welcomer lay, Who had yearned for his voice while dying! The panting steed, with a drooping crest, Stood weary, The king returned from her chamber of rest The thick sobs choking in his breast, And that dumb companion eying; The tears rushed forth which he strove to check, He bowed his head on the charger's neck--"O steed, that every nerve didst strain, Dear steed, our ride hath been in vain To the halls where my love lay dying." I OVE not, love not! ye hapless sons of clay! Hope's gayest wreaths are made of earthly flowers,--Things that are made to fade and fall away Ere they have blossomed for a few short hours. Love not! Love not! The thing ye love may change, The rosy lip may cease to smile on you, LOVE NOT. The kindly-beaming eye grow cold and strange, The heart still warmly beat, yet not be true. Love not! Love not! The thing you love may die,---May perish from the gay and gladsome earth, The silent stars, the blue and smiling sky, Beam o'er its grave, as once upon its birth. Love not! Love not! O warning vainly said In present hours as in years gone by! Love flings a halo round the dear one's head, Faultless, immortal, till they change or die. Love not! ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON. T OVE that hath us in the net, Can he pass, and we forget? Man...

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