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beautiful behold birds Calais calm caravel child crack of doom cried culverin dark dear death deep dolour doth dream e'en earth Echo Evesham Exmoor eyes face fain fair father fear fell fireships girl gold golden girl gone hand hath hear heard heart heaven hope king knew land Ledbury life's light look lost love's Malva man's Martinmas methought mocked morn mother neath neighbours never night nought pale Parma peace pity plumèd cap prayed Psalter queen quoth Rosamund sail saith shadow shining ships sigh Sigismund sing Sith sleep smile soft song soul Spaniard stars strange sunbeam sweet sweet noises tears tell thee things thou thought vex'd Vicar voice wait wake walk waste weary weird Wendover white-witch whiteheart wife wild wind words yearning
Popular passages
Page 40 - Hie over ! hie over ! you man of the ferry — the ferry ! " By the still water's side she was heard far and wide — she replied, And she mocked in her voice sweet and merry, " You man of the ferry, You man of — you man of the ferry ! " " Hie over !
Page 37 - I felt it was right they should scold ! Eggs small and eggs many. For gladness I broke into laughter ; And then some one else — oh, how softly ! — came after, came after With laughter — with laughter came after. And no one was near us to utter that sweet mocking call, That soon very tired sank low with a mystical fall. But this was the country — perhaps it was close under heaven ; Oh, nothing so likely ; the voice might have come from it even. I knew about heaven.
Page 43 - Will it all seem an echo from childhood pass'd over — pass'd on? Will the grave parson bless us? Hark, hark! in the dim failing light I hear her! As then the child's voice clear and high, sweet and merry Now she mocks the man's tone with "Hie over! Hie over the ferry ! " •' And Katie."
Page 36 - So he whistled and went, he went over the stile to the wood. It was sad, it was sorrowful ! Only a girl — only seven ! At home in the dark London smoke I had not found it out. The pear-trees looked on in their white, and blue birds flash'd about, And they too were angry as Oliver.
Page 36 - AY, Oliver ! I was but seven, and he was eleven ; He looked at me pouting and rosy. I blushed where I stood. They had told us to play in the orchard (and I only seven ! A small guest at the farm) ; but he said ' Oh, a girl was no good ! ' So he whistled and went, he went over the stile to the wood.
Page 38 - So this was the country; clear dazzle of azure and shiver, And whisper of leaves, and a humming all over the tall White branches, a humming of bees. And I came to the wall — A little, low wall — and looked over, and there was the river, The lane that led on to the village, and then the sweet river, Clear shining and slow, she had far, far to go from her snow; But each rush gleamed a sword in the sunlight to guard her long flow, And she murmured, methought, with a speech very soft, very low. "...
Page 38 - That soon very tired sank low with a mystical fall. But this was the country — perhaps it was close under heaven ; Oh, nothing so likely ; the voice might have come from it even. I knew about heaven. But this was the country, of this Light, blossom, and piping, and flashing of wings not at all. Not at all. No. But one little bird was an easy forgiver : She peeped, she drew near as I moved from her domicile small, Then flashed down her hole like a dart — like a dart from the quiver.
Page 39 - Was Echo a wise kind of bee That had learned how to laugh: could it laugh in one's ear and then fly And laugh again yonder ? ' ' No ; Echo ' — he whispered it low ' Was a woman, they said, but a woman whom no one could see And no one could find ; and he did not believe it, not he, But he could not get near for the river that held us asunder. Yet I that had money— a shilling, a whole silver shilling — 413 We might cross if I thought I would spend it.
Page 40 - All measure her doubling — so close, then so far away falling, Then gone, and no more. Oh! to see her but once unaware, And the mouth that had mocked, but we might not (yet sure she was there !), Nor behold her wild eyes and her mystical countenance fair. We sought in the wood, and we found the woodwren in her stead; In the field, and we found but the cuckoo that talked overhead; By the brook, and we found the reed-sparrow deepnested, in brown — Not Echo, fair Echo! for Echo, sweet Echo! was...
Page 43 - the ferry." "You man of the ferry " "You man of — you man of — the ferry." Ay, here — it was here that we woke her, the Echo of old; All life of that day seems an echo, and many times told. Shall I cross by the ferry to-morrow, and come in my white To that little low church? and will Oliver meet me anon ? Will it all seem an echo from childhood passed over — passed on?