Sacred Poems (Classic Reprint)
| Preis: | 14.95 EUR* (inkl. MWST zzgl. Versand - Preis kann jetzt höher sein!) |
| Versand: | 0.00 EUR Versandkostenfrei innerhalb von Deutschland |
| Partner: | buecher.de |
| Hersteller: | Forgotten Books (Willis, Nathaniel Parker) |
| Stand: | 2015-08-04 03:50:33 |
Produktbeschreibung
Excerpt from Sacred Poems The author puts these poems to press with the knowledge that they should all be re-written, and with a painful regret that he has no leisure to re-write them before extending their publicity in a new re-print. The subjects of the poems, and the feelings expressed in them, have given them a popularity independent of criticism, and to that tide he again commits them - to flow as far as they will. He rests his hope of reputation on having the leisure to overtake and pass them at some future day. The separate publication of the poems on serious subjects is in obedience to frequent suggestion. The other poems and plays by the author will be printed in a shape uniform with this, in succeeding numbers, - giving purchasers the choice of binding them together or separate. The Healing of the Daughter of Jairus. Freshly the cool breath of the coming eve Stole through the lattice, and the dying girl Felt it upon her forehead. She had lain Since the hot noontide in a breathless trance - Her thin pale fingers clasp´d within the hand Of the heart-broken Ruler, and her breast, Like the dead marble, white and motionless, The shadow of a leaf lay on her lips, And, as it stirr´d with the awakening wind, The dark lids lifted from her languid eyes, And her slight fingers moved, and heavily She turned upon her pillow. He was there - The same loved, tireless watcher, and she look´d Into his face until her sight grew dim With the fast-falling tears; and, with a sigh Of tremulous weakness murmuring his name, She gently drew his hand upon her lips, And kiss´d it as she wept. The old man sunk Upon his knees, and in the drapery Of the rich curtains buried up his face; And when the twilight fell, the silken folds Stirr´d with his prayer, but the slight hand he held Had ceased its pressure - and he could not hear, In the dead, utter silence, that a breath Came through her nostrils - and her temples gave To his nice touch no pulse - and, at her mouth, He held the lightest curl that on her neck Lay with a mocking beauty, and his gaze Ached with its deathly stillness. It was night - And, softly, o´er the Sea of Galilee, Danced the breeze-ridden ripples to the shore, Tipp´d with the silver sparkles of the moon, The breaking waves play´d low upon the beach Their constant music, but the air beside Was still as starlight, and the Saviour´s voice, In its rich cadences unearthly sweet, Seem´d like some just-born harmony in the air, Waked by the power of wisdom. On a rock, With the broad moonlight falling on his brow, He stood and taught the people. At his feet Lay his small scrip, and pilgrims scallop-shell, And staff - for they had waited by the sea Till he came o´er from Gadarene, and pray´d For his wont teachings as he came to land, His hair was parted meekly on his brow, And the long curls from off his shoulders fell, As he lean´d forward earnestly, and still The same calm cadence, passionless and deep - And in his looks the same mild majesty - And in his mien the sadness mix´d with power - Fill´d them with love and wonder. Suddenly, As on his words entrancedly they hung, The crowd divided, and among them stood Jairvs the Ruler. With his flowing robe Gather´d in haste about his loins, he came, And fix´d his eyes on Jesus. Closer drew The twelve disciples to their M
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