Poems - Michael Goodnight - Editor

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From his eyes of flame,Ruby tears there came;While the lionessLoosed her slender dress,And naked they conveyedTo caves the sleeping maid.THE LITTLE GIRL FOUNDAll the night in woeLyca's parents goOver valleys deep,While the deserts weep.Tired and woe-begone,Hoarse with making moan,Arm in arm, seven daysThey traced the desert ways.Seven nights they sleepAmong shadows deep,
And dream they see their childStarved in desert wild.Pale through pathless waysThe fancied image strays,Famished, weeping, weak,With hollow piteous shriek.Rising from unrest,The trembling woman pressedWith feet of weary woe;She could no further go.In his arms he boreHer, armed with sorrow sore;Till before their wayA couching lion lay.Turning back was vain:Soon his heavy maneBore them to the ground,Then he stalked around,
Page 3 and 4: For they know when their Shepherd i
Page 5 and 6: Gave thee clothing of delight,Softe
Page 7 and 8: Thus did my mother say, and kissed
Page 9 and 10: And by came an angel, who had a bri
Page 11 and 12: And the dimpling stream runs laughi
Page 13 and 14: Thy Maker lay, and wept for me:Wept
Page 15 and 16: Grey-headed beadles walked before,
Page 17 and 18: Seeking to drive their thirst away,
Page 19 and 20: Merry voice,Infant noise;Merrily, m
Page 21 and 22: Pretty joy!Sweet joy, but two days
Page 24 and 25: He doth give his joy to all:He beco
Page 26 and 27: EARTH'S ANSWEREarth raised up her h
Page 28 and 29: Warbled out these metres meet:"Love
Page 30 and 31: Never fades away,Lovely Lyca lay.Se
Page 34 and 35: Smelling to his prey;But their fear
Page 36 and 37: They think they have done me no inj
Page 38 and 39: Till some blind handShall brush my
Page 40 and 41: Burnt the fire of thine eyes?On wha
Page 42 and 43: Where the Youth pined away with des
Page 44 and 45: But the Alehouse is healthy, and pl
Page 46 and 47: Pity would be no moreIf we did not
Page 48 and 49: I was angry with my friend:I told m
Page 50 and 51: The weeping parents wept in vain:Th
Page 52 and 53: All her tender limbs with terror sh
Page 54 and 55: When the blasts of winter appear?TO
Page 56 and 57: And Jealousy a human face;Terror th
Page 58 and 59: O life of this our spring! why fade
Page 60 and 61: II.O little Cloud the virgin said,
Page 62 and 63: Art thou a Worm? image of weakness,
Page 64: She stood in silence, listning to t

Poems - Michael Goodnight - Editor

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