My Beautiful Lady. Nelly Dale by Thomas Woolner
page 47 of 109 (43%)
page 47 of 109 (43%)
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All hope and doubt, all fears are vain:
The dreams I nursed of honouring her are past, And will not comfort me again. I see a lurid sunlight throw its last Wild gleam athwart the land whose shadows lengthen fast. It does not seem so dreadful now The horror stands out naked, stark, and still: I am quite calm, and wonder how My terror played such mad pranks with my will. The North winds fiercely blow, I do not feel them chill. All things must die: somewhere I read What wise and solemn men pronounce of joy; No sooner born, they say, than dead: The strife of being, but a whirling toy Humming a weary moan spun by capricious boy. Has my soul reached a starry height Majestically calm? No monster, drear And shapeless, glares me faint at night; I am not in the sunshine checked for fear That monstrous shapeless thing is somewhere crouching near? No; woe is me! far otherwise: The naked horror numbs me to the bone; In stupor calm its cold blank eyes Set hard at mine. I do not fall or groan, Our island Gorgon's face had changed me into stone. |
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