The Manor House: The Hand in the Dark and Other Poems

Nonfiction, Religion & Spirituality, New Age, History, Fiction & Literature
Cover of the book The Manor House: The Hand in the Dark and Other Poems by Ada Cambridge, Library of Alexandria
View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart
Author: Ada Cambridge ISBN: 9781465605900
Publisher: Library of Alexandria Publication: March 8, 2015
Imprint: Language: English
Author: Ada Cambridge
ISBN: 9781465605900
Publisher: Library of Alexandria
Publication: March 8, 2015
Imprint:
Language: English
AN old house, crumbling half away, all barnacled and lichen-grown, Of saddest, mellowest, softest grey,—with a grand history of its own— Grand with the work and strife and tears of more than half a thousand years. Such delicate, tender, russet tones of colour on its gables slept, With streaks of gold betwixt the stones, where wind-sown flowers and mosses crept: Wild grasses waved in sun and shade o’er terrace slab and balustrade. Around the clustered chimneys clung the ivy’s wreathed and braided threads, And dappled lights and shadows flung across the sombre browns and reds; Where’er the graver’s hand had been, it spread its tendrils bright and green. Far-stretching branches shadowed deep the blazoned windows and broad eaves, And rocked the faithful rooks asleep, and strewed the terraces with leaves. A broken dial marked the hours amid damp lawns and garden bowers. An old house, silent, sad, forlorn, yet proud and stately to the last; Of all its power and splendour shorn, but rich with memories of the past; And pitying, from its own decay, the gilded piles of yesterday. Pitying the new race that passed by, with slighting note of its grey walls,— And entertaining tenderly the shades of dead knights in its halls, Whose blood, that soaked these hallowed sods, came down from Scandinavian gods. I saw it first in summer-time. The warm air hummed and buzzed with bees, Where now the pale green hop-vines climb about the sere trunks of the trees, And waves of roses on the ground scented the tangled glades around. Some long fern-plumes drooped there—below; the heaven above was still and blue; Just here—between the gloom and glow—a cedar and an aged yew Parted their dusky arms, to let the glory fall on Margaret. She leaned on that old balustrade, her white dress tinged with golden air, Her small hands loosely clasped, and laid amongst the moss and maidenhair: I watched her, hearing, as I stood, a turtle cooing in the wood— Hearing a mavis far away, piping his dreamy interludes, While gusts of soft wind, sweet with hay, swept through those garden solitudes,— And thinking she was lovelier e-en than my young ideal love had been.
View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart
AN old house, crumbling half away, all barnacled and lichen-grown, Of saddest, mellowest, softest grey,—with a grand history of its own— Grand with the work and strife and tears of more than half a thousand years. Such delicate, tender, russet tones of colour on its gables slept, With streaks of gold betwixt the stones, where wind-sown flowers and mosses crept: Wild grasses waved in sun and shade o’er terrace slab and balustrade. Around the clustered chimneys clung the ivy’s wreathed and braided threads, And dappled lights and shadows flung across the sombre browns and reds; Where’er the graver’s hand had been, it spread its tendrils bright and green. Far-stretching branches shadowed deep the blazoned windows and broad eaves, And rocked the faithful rooks asleep, and strewed the terraces with leaves. A broken dial marked the hours amid damp lawns and garden bowers. An old house, silent, sad, forlorn, yet proud and stately to the last; Of all its power and splendour shorn, but rich with memories of the past; And pitying, from its own decay, the gilded piles of yesterday. Pitying the new race that passed by, with slighting note of its grey walls,— And entertaining tenderly the shades of dead knights in its halls, Whose blood, that soaked these hallowed sods, came down from Scandinavian gods. I saw it first in summer-time. The warm air hummed and buzzed with bees, Where now the pale green hop-vines climb about the sere trunks of the trees, And waves of roses on the ground scented the tangled glades around. Some long fern-plumes drooped there—below; the heaven above was still and blue; Just here—between the gloom and glow—a cedar and an aged yew Parted their dusky arms, to let the glory fall on Margaret. She leaned on that old balustrade, her white dress tinged with golden air, Her small hands loosely clasped, and laid amongst the moss and maidenhair: I watched her, hearing, as I stood, a turtle cooing in the wood— Hearing a mavis far away, piping his dreamy interludes, While gusts of soft wind, sweet with hay, swept through those garden solitudes,— And thinking she was lovelier e-en than my young ideal love had been.

More books from Library of Alexandria

Cover of the book The Convolvulus: A Comedy in Three Acts by Ada Cambridge
Cover of the book The Holy Cross and Other Tales by Ada Cambridge
Cover of the book A Secret Inheritance (Complete) by Ada Cambridge
Cover of the book The Trail of the Sandhill Stag by Ada Cambridge
Cover of the book Marianela by Ada Cambridge
Cover of the book Concerning Bully Hayes From The Strange Adventure of James Shervinton and Other Stories by Ada Cambridge
Cover of the book Mount Royal: A Novel (Complete) by Ada Cambridge
Cover of the book The Girls of Central High at Basketball: The Great Gymnasium Mystery by Ada Cambridge
Cover of the book In the Land of Mosques & Minarets by Ada Cambridge
Cover of the book The Problems of Psychical Research: Experiments and Theories in the Realm of the Supernormal by Ada Cambridge
Cover of the book The Collected Works of Sigmund Freud by Ada Cambridge
Cover of the book Sant of the Secret Service: Some Revelations of Spies and Spying by Ada Cambridge
Cover of the book Diana Tempest (Complete) by Ada Cambridge
Cover of the book I Rossi E I Neri (Complete) by Ada Cambridge
Cover of the book Famous Reviews by Ada Cambridge
We use our own "cookies" and third party cookies to improve services and to see statistical information. By using this website, you agree to our Privacy Policy