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Thomas Woolner THIS poem is by a sculptor who has carried the realities of Pre-Raphaelite principles into portrait sculpture with success. The poem is remarkable for its gravity of feeling, its tender touches of beauty, and its oneness.

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Thomas Woolner THIS poem is by a sculptor who has carried the realities of Pre-Raphaelite principles into portrait sculpture with success.

You are so Beautiful to Me

The poem is remarkable for its gravity of feeling, its tender touches of beauty, and its oneness. It shows us that the Poet of Form might have been a Poet in Colour, and the life that has blanched in marble might have bloomed in verse. The writer has felt for himself, thought for himself, and made out his own music, lookong here and there a of invention in measure and rhythm.

He has an eye alive to external nature, and the voice has the quiet emphasis of one who has been steadied by suffering. The escort ranking loving thoughts and beautiful fancies evidently blossom out of the real facts of life, and 'My Beautiful Lady' is the work of a thorough artist. The writer has strong affinities of nature and taste with those early Italian poets translated so affectionately by Mr.

Rossetti; and at times his quaintness of manner may raise a smile, but we do not feel it to be an affectation, nor will it be objected to by any reader who is one of the initiated in the experience of marrickville knight model and losing, and who knows that genuine grief will have its freaks of fancy and quaintness of expression. The poem was commenced years ago in the Pre-Raphaelite periodical called The Germ.

The seed there dropped has here expanded into an acceptable flower, which, though springing from a grave, has fed on sunshine and dew and taken healthy bloom from the open air. The story, if story it can be called, is told, or indicated, by the lover of the "Beautiful Lady," in various measures, which change according to the changing theme.

Here we meet with the happy pair beautifyl My Lady walks as I have watched a swan Swim where a glory on the water shone: There ends of willow branches ride Quivering on the flowing tide, By the deep river's side. Fresh beauties, howsoe'er she moves, are stirred: As the sunned porterville vt escort service of a humming-bird At each pant lifts some fiery hue, Fierce gold, beautifuk green or blue; The same, yet ever new.

That is in the sunshine.

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The next is a Picture in the shade: We wander forth unconsciously, because The azure calmness of the evening draws: When sober hues pervade the ground, And universal life is drowned Into hushed depths of sound. We thread a copse where frequent bramble spray With loose obtrusiveness from side roots stray, And force sweet pauses on our walk; I'll lift one with my foot, and talk About its leaves and stalk.

Or may be that some thorn or prickly stem Will take a prisoner her long garment's hem; To disentangle it I kneel, Oft wounding more than I can heal; It makes her laugh, my zeal. I recollect my Lady in the wood Keeping her breath, while peering as she stood There, balanced lightly on tiptoe, To mark a nest built snug below, Leaves shadowing her brow.

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In many lines the subject is treated with such tender grace and quiet precision of delicate handling that we know it is a shame to hint such a thing, sex personals hinton yet we cannot help feeling that these walks in the woodland were continued too long and late, and had something to do with the Lady's early decline and sad death. The lover has scarcely sung his song of triumph,— Warble, warble, warble, O thou joyful bird!

Warble, lost in leaves that shade my happy head; Warble loud delights, laud thy warm-breasted mate, And warbling shout the riot of thy heart, Thine utmost rapture cannot equal mine. Hover and tremble, flitting till thou findest, Butterfly, thy treasure!

Yet thou never canst Find treasure rich as my contented rest,— when he sees his "Beautiful Lady" bowing with illness, and fading with the pallid droop of a lily, a glance of "chilly splendour" in her eyes,—her smile for him a "dawn-bright snowy peak,"—and The heavy sinking at her heart Sucked persia ia milf personals in her cheek, And lolking her eyelids weak, Tho' oft they opened wide with sudden start.

At length the end came, and he stood Awe-struck to see portentous loom From her large eyes full gazing thro' the gloom, Love darkly wedded to eternal doom. No more she hears where vines adorn Her window, on the boughs Birds chirrup an arouse: Flies, buzzing, strengthening with the morn, She will not hear again At random strike the pane: No more on grass-plat gor shorn With lookinh gown's glancing hem Bend down the daisy's stem, In walking forth to view what flowers are born.

Thomas Woolner

Ebony escorts etobicoke canada a blank verse part called 'Years After,' the poem increases in strength of thought and grasp of feeling. The poverty of the great loss has passed into spiritual gain, and the "heartsease" has grown from out the grave of buried love. The life-roots that felt the killing cold of the dark earth have stirred with fresh sap, and the branches have put forth their leaf of tenderer green at the coming of a later spring.

Past sufferings have purified the soul and cleared the vision for present duties, and the love that shed such a light about the feet has now hung up its little lamp of immortality overhead, safe beyond the region of storms.

Tho' not for all To sail thro' sunny ripples to the end Chatting of shipwrecks as pathetic tales; All are not born to nurse the dainty pangs That herald love's completion, and behold Their darlings flourish in the tempered air Of comfort till themselves become the springs Of a yet milder race: all are not born To touch majestic eminence and shine Directing spirits in their nation's sight And radiate unformed posterity: But thro' transcendent mercy all are born To enter on a nobler heritage Than these, if each but beautifu, to rightly choose In serving Duty, man's prerogative: Which is far pleasanter than paths of flowers, Than warmest clustering of household joys, And prouder than the proudest shouts of fame That follow actions not in conscience wrought.

Such a conclusion to the poem, with its dawn of a nobler life and glow of purer lookjng, its removal of love's highest goal to the next life, its unfolding of the new strength necessary to reach that goal, is natural in the noblest sense, and for the work an artistic triumph. We regret that harrisburg pa escort service poem has not been better read by the printer; a thing we have seldom to complain of now-a-days in books of verse.