Poems — Volume 2 by George Meredith
page 58 of 296 (19%)
page 58 of 296 (19%)
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And she answered him: Thou to me!
As men utter a vow. VI Then said she, quick as the cries Of the rainy cranes: Light! light! And Helios rose in her eyes, That were full as the dew-balls bright, Relucent to him as dews Unshaded. Breathing, she sent Her voice to the God of the Muse, And along the vale it went, Strange to hear: not thin, not shrill: Sweet, but no young maid's throat: The echo beyond the hill Ran falling on half the note: And under the shaken ground Where the Hundred-headed groans By the roots of great AEtna bound, As of him were hollow tones Of wondering roared: a tale Repeated to sunless halls. But now off the face of the vale Shadows fled in a breath, and the walls Of the lake's rock-head were gold, And the breast of the lake, that swell Of the crestless long wave rolled To shore-bubble, pebble and shell. A morning of radiant lids |
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