Charles Kingsley

And should she die, her grave should
Upon the bare top of a sunny hill,
Among the moorlands of her own fair land,
Amid a ring of old and moss-grown

List a tale a fairy sent
Fresh from dear Mundi Juventus
When Love and all the world was young,
And birds conversed as well as sung;

See the land, her Easter keeping,
Rises as her Maker rose
Seeds, so long in darkness sleeping,
Burst at last from winter snows

Accept this building, gracious Lord,
No temple though it be;
We raised it for our suffering kin,
And so,

Come hearken, hearken, gentles all,
Come hearken unto me,
And I'll sing you a song of a
Came swimming out over the sea

(Written for music to be sung at a parish industrial exhibition)See the land, her Easter keeping,
Rises as her Maker rose
Seeds, so long in darkness sleeping,
Burst at last from winter snows

I would have loved: there are no mates in heaven;
I would be great: there is no pride in heaven;
I would have sung, as doth the
The summer's night beneath the moone pale,

The world goes up and the world goes down,
And the sunshine follows the rain;
And yesterday's sneer and yesterday's
Can never come over again,

Wearily stretches the sand to the surge, and the surge to the cloudland;
Wearily onward I ride, watching the water alone
Not as of old, like Homeric Achilles,
de

My fairest child,
I have no song to give you;
No lark could pipe in skies so dull and gray;
Yet, if you will, one quiet hint I'll leave you,

Linger no more, my beloved, by abbey and cell and cathedral;
Mourn not for holy ones mourning of old them who knew not the Father,
Weeping with fast and scourge, when the bridegroom was taken from them
Drop back awhile through the y...

Ah tyrant Love,
Megaera's serpents bearing,
Why thus requite my sighs with venom'd smart
Ah ruthless dove, the vulture's talons wearing,