Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/969

 COVENTRY PATMORE

With darken'd eyelids, and their lashes yet

From his late sobbing wet.

And I, with moan,

Kissing away his tears, left others of my own;

For, on a table drawn beside his head,

He had put, within his reach,

A box of counters and a rcd-vein'd stone,

A piece of glass abraded by the beach.

And six or seven shells,

A bottle with bluebells,

And two French copper coins, ranged there with careful art,

To comfort his sad heart.

So when that night I pray'd

To God, I wept, and said'

Ah, when at last we lie with tranced breath,

Not vexing Thee in death,

And Thou rememberest of what toys

We made our joys,

How weakly understood

Thy great commanded good,

Then, fatherly not less

Than I whom Thou hast moulded from the clay,

Thou'lt leave Thy wrath, and say,

'I will be sorry for their childishness.'

��772 Magna est Veritas

'ERE, in this little Bay,

Full of tumultuous life and great repose, Where, twice a day,

The purposeless, glad ocean comes and goes, Under high cliff's, and far from the huge town, I sit me down.

�� �