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Сторінка 272 - And where, I pray you, is the Queen Who willed that Buridan should steer Sewed in a sack's mouth down the Seine ? . , But where are the snows of yester-year? White Queen Blanche, like a queen of lilies, With a voice like any mermaiden, — Bertha Broadfoot, Beatrice, Alice, And Ermengarde the lady of Maine, — And that good Joan whom Englishmen At Rouen doomed and burned her there, — Mother of God, where are they then ? . . , But where are the snows of yester-year...
Сторінка 271 - TELL me now in what hidden way is Lady Flora the lovely Roman ? Where's Hipparchia, and where is Thais, Neither of them the fairer woman ? Where is Echo, beheld of no man. Only heard on river and mere,— She whose beauty was more than human?... But where are the snows of yester-year?
Сторінка 15 - Oh his son still cries, if you forgive, Sister Helen, The body dies but the soul shall live.' ' Fire shall forgive me as I forgive, Little brother! ' (O Mother, Mary Mother, As she forgives, between Hell and Heaven!) ' Oh he prays you, as his heart would rive, Sister Helen, To save his dear son's soul alive.
Сторінка 4 - will seek the groves Where the lady Mary is, With her five handmaidens, whose names Are five sweet symphonies, Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen, Margaret and Rosalys.
Сторінка 6 - Why did you melt your waxen man, Sister Helen? To-day is the third since you began.' 'The time was long, yet the time ran, Little brother.' (O Mother, Mary Mother, Three days to-day, between Hell and Heaven!) 'But if you have done your work aright, Sister Helen, You'll let me play, for you said I might.
Сторінка 2 - Her gaze still strove Within the gulf to pierce Its path; and now she spoke as when The stars sang in their spheres. The sun was gone now; the curled moon Was like a little feather Fluttering far down the gulf; and now She spoke through the still weather. Her voice was like the voice the stars Had when they sang together.
Сторінка 3 - We two will lie i' the shadow of That living mystic tree. Within whose secret growth the Dove Is sometimes felt to be, While every leaf that His plumes touch Saith His Name audibly.
Сторінка 13 - He sends a ring and a broken coin, Sister Helen, And bids you mind the banks of Boyne.' 'What else he broke will he ever join, Little brother? ' (O Mother, Mary Mother, No, never joined, between Hell and Heaven!) 'He yields you these and craves full fain, Sister Helen, You pardon him in his mortal pain.
Сторінка 18 - Alas! but I fear the heavy sound, Sister Helen; Is it in the sky or in the ground?" "Say, have they turned their horses round, Little brother?" (O Mother, Mary Mother, What would she more, between Hell and Heaven?) "They have raised the old man from his knee, 260 Sister Helen, And they ride in silence hastily.

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