The Winter Wreath

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Nathaniel Parker Willis
Leavitt and Allen, 1853 - 224ÆäÀÌÁö
Verse and prose contributions, mainly by American authors.

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40 ÆäÀÌÁö - Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed, Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees, In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed, But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled.
32 ÆäÀÌÁö - Ah, happy chance! the aged creature came, Shuffling along with ivory-headed wand, To where he stood, hid from the torch's flame, Behind a broad hall-pillar, far beyond The sound of merriment and chorus bland...
29 ÆäÀÌÁö - The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide: The level chambers, ready with their pride, Were glowing to receive a thousand guests: The carved angels, ever eager-eyed, Stared where upon their heads the cornice rests, With hair blown back, and wings put cross-wise on their breasts.
31 ÆäÀÌÁö - Buttress'd from moonlight, stands he, and implores All saints to give him sight of Madeline, But for one moment in the tedious hours, That he might gaze and worship all unseen; Perchance speak, kneel, touch, kiss — in sooth such things have been.
30 ÆäÀÌÁö - Of old romance. These let us wish away, And turn, sole-thoughted, to one Lady there, Whose heart had brooded, all that wintry day, On love, and winged St. Agnes' saintly care, As she had heard old dames full many times declare. They told her how, upon St. Agnes...
36 ÆäÀÌÁö - For I am slow and feeble, and scarce dare On such a catering trust my dizzy head. Wait here, my child, with patience kneel in prayer The while : Ah ! thou must needs the lady wed, Or may I never leave my grave among the dead.
167 ÆäÀÌÁö - That pavement, damp and cold, no smiling courtiers tread ; one silent woman stands, lifting with meagre hands, a dying head. No mingling voices sound — an infant wail alone; a sob suppressed — again that short deep gasp, and then the parting groan ! Oh ! change — oh, wondrous change ! burst are the prison bars ! This moment there, so low, so agonized ; — and now, beyond the stars ! Oh ! change — stupendous change ! There lies the soulless clod : — the sun eternal breaks — the new immortal...
38 ÆäÀÌÁö - But to her heart, her heart was voluble, Paining with eloquence her balmy side; As though a tongueless nightingale should swell Her throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled, in her dell.
36 ÆäÀÌÁö - Which was, to lead him, in close secrecy, Even to Madeline's chamber, and there hide Him in a closet, of such privacy...
43 ÆäÀÌÁö - And now, my love, my seraph fair, awake! Thou art my heaven, and I thine eremite: Open thine eyes, for meek St. Agnes' sake, Or I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth ache.

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