Henry Alford Poems

Rise,' said the Master, 'come unto the feast.'
She heard the call and rose with willing feet;
But thinking it not otherwise than meet
...

The dead alone are great!
While heavenly plants abide on earth,
The soil is one of dewless dearth;
But when they die, a mourning shower
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Bring flowers--but not the gay,
The tender, nor the sweet;
But such as winter's chill winds lay
Faded and dank across the spray,
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Ladies, our first and second are before you:
We shall not act our whole, for fear it bore you.
We would not have (the thing speaks for itself)
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Dolefully sound, ye groves and Dorian waters,
Lament, ye rivers, our beloved Bion;
Mourn, all ye plants, and whisper low, ye forests;
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Nevermore on hills of snow
Shall we two together go,
My Reindeer;
Nevermore the snow thou'lt paw,
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This world of wonders, where our lot is cast,
Hath far more ends than one. A man may stand
On the bluff rocks that stretch from Sennen Church,
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``Child, whither goest thou
Over the snowy hill?
The frost--air nips so keen
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From our aisles of places holy,
From our dwellings calm and lowly,
On the autumn breezes slowly
Swells the sound of prayer:
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Near the town of Romulus,
Faithful Maid and Martyr blest,
Agnes hath her sepulchre;
From her holy place of rest
...