Isabella Valancy Crawford Poems

My masters twain made me a bed
Of pine-boughs resinous, and cedar;
Of moss, a soft and gentle breeder
Of dreams of rest; and me they spread
...

In the lone place of the leaves,
Where they touch the hanging eaves,
There sprang a spray of joyous song that sounded sweet and sturdy;
And the baby in the bed
...

Sylvia's lattices were dark­
Roses made them narrow.
In the dawn there came a Spark,
Armèd with an arrow:
...

In the first dawn she lifted from her bed
The holy silver of her noble head,
And listened, listened, listened for his tread.
'Too soon, too soon !' she murmured, 'Yet I'll keep
...

Joy's City hath high battlements of gold;
Joy's City hath her streets of gem-wrought flow'rs;
She hath her palaces high reared and bold,
...

SLOWLY the Moon her banderoles of light
Unfurls upon the sky; her fingers drip
Pale, silvery tides; her armoured warriors
...

ONE time he dreamed beside a sea
That laid a mane of mimic stars
In fondling quiet on the knee
...

Long time one whisper'd in his ear--
'Give me my strong, pure soul; behold
'Tis mine to give what men hold dear--
The treasure of red gold.'
...

THE noon was as a crystal bowl
The red wine mantled through;
Around it like a Viking's beard
The red-gold hazes blew,
...

A startled stag, the blue-grey Night,
Leaps down beyond black pines.
Behind--a length of yellow light--
The hunter's arrow shines:
...