A maiden knight-to me is given I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven I muse on joy that will not cease, Whose odors haunt my dreams; This weight and size, this heart and eyes, The clouds are broken in the sky, Swells up, and shakes and falls. So pass I hostel, hall, and grange; By bridge and ford, by park and pale, ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON. FLOWERS WITHOUT FRUIT. PRUNE thou thy words; the thoughts control That o'er thee swell and throng; They will condense within thy soul, And change to purpose strong. |