Poems — Volume 2 by George Meredith
page 54 of 296 (18%)
page 54 of 296 (18%)
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Leaves meadows to bud, and he spied,
By light throwing shallow shade, Between the beam and the gloom, Sicilian Enna, whose Maid Such aspect wears in her bloom Underneath since the Charioteer Of Darkness whirled her away, On a reaped afternoon of the year, Nigh the poppy-droop of Day. O and naked of her, all dust, The majestic Mother and Nurse, Ringing cries to the God, the Just, Curled the land with the blight of her curse: Recollected of this glad isle Still quaking. But now more fair, And momently fraying the while The veil of the shadows there, Soft Enna that prostrate grief Sang through, and revealed round the vines, Bronze-orange, the crisp young leaf, The wheat-blades tripping in lines, A hue unillumined by sun Of the flowers flooding grass as from founts: All the penetrable dun Of the morn ere she mounts. III Nor had saffron and sapphire and red Waved aloft to their sisters below, |
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