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Ingelow, Jean, 1820-1897

"Poems by Jean Ingelow, In Two Volumes, Volume I."


With that it drew
To evening; and as Gladys wandered on
In the calm weather, she beheld the wave,
And she ran down to set her feet again
On the sea margin, which was covered thick
With white shell-skeletons. The sky was red
As wine. The water played among bare ribs
Of many wrecks, that lay half buried there
In the sand. She saw a cave, and moved thereto
To ask her way, and one so innocent
Came out to meet her, that, with marvelling mute,
She gazed and gazed into her sea-blue eyes,
For in them beamed the untaught ecstasy
Of childhood, that lives on though youth be come,
And love just born.
She could not choose but name her shipwrecked prince,
All blushing. She told Gladys many things
That are not in the story,--things, in sooth,
That Prospero her father knew. But now
'Twas evening, and the sun drooped; purple stripes
In the sea were copied from some clouds that lay
Out in the west. And lo! the boat, and more,
The freakish thing to take fair Gladys home
She mowed at her, but Gladys took the helm:
"Peace, peace!" she said; "be good: you shall not steer,
For I am your liege lady." Then she sang
The sweetest songs she knew all the way home.
So Gladys set her feet upon the sand;
While in the sunset glory died away
The peaks of that blest island.
"Fare you well.


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