Bernard Miall

Poems Bernard Miall

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1899. Excerpt: ... All the flickering forest knoweth, all the streaming odorous air, And his holy secret rapture All things do share, And lead a magic dance Whom his laughter doth entrance, It is chanted in a paean through the enraptured world around. Ah, behold his lordly rapture That his creatures do recapture, That for love has taken to it earthly raiment, caught, and found! THE RAIN LL the green of the garden is chill, All the grey of the sky is still, And across the window, down to the lawn The patient glittering rain is drawn, Darkly falling all over the sky, Falling, falling in shadowy threads, White as it passes the poplars by In glittering phantom threads, Straight and long it falls from on high, On the flowers, on their forsaken heads; Plashing the moss-green tiles of the houses With multitudinous cold grey fingers, And ever rouses That patient, weary song, Which, all the morning long, Continually drowsing like the sea, Became its very song to me; The song that lingers Through the dull afternoon, yet brings to me No salt, no life, no savour of the sea. The birds are hushed in the trees That sang in the rain of dawn, And all the sodden lawn Lies empty, and the still wet leaves around Mutter their charm of unremitting sound, That, as the sullen sky Droops like a net to hold a soul to ground, So, with its patient and continual drone, Weaves a dull spell to prison up the sense, Till I can conjure me to call my own No summer's rapture, April's innocence Of memoried song; But all a long life long, So mutters the rain, Plashing the leaves, crackling upon the pane, I have sat at a window open high Half on a garden, half on the sky; And the green garden one That never heard a song or saw the sun, And the grey sky One that has never seen a cloud sail by. What should I do wi...