Felix Randal
Félix Rándal the fárrier,
O is he déad then
my dúty all énded,
Who have watched his mould of man, bigboned and
Félix Rándal the fárrier,
O is he déad then
my dúty all énded,
Who have watched his mould of man, bigboned and
I remember a house where all were good To me,
God knows, deserving no such thing: Comforting smell breathed at very entering,
Fetched fresh, as I suppose, off some sweet wood
That cordial air made those kind people a hood All over, ...
Beyond Mágdalen and by the Bridge, on a place called there the Plain,
In Summer, in a burst of summertime Following falls and falls of rain,
When the air was sweet-and-sour of the flown fineflower of Those goldnails and their gaylinks th...
May is Mary's month, and I Muse at that and wonder why:
Her feasts follow reason,
Dated due to season—Candlemas,
Lady Day;
HE
LD is charged with the grandeur of God
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of
The dappled
Cheek and wimpled lip,
The gold-wisp, the
Eye, all in fellowship—This, all this beauty blooming,
How lovely the elder brother’s Life all laced in the other’s,
Lóve-laced
—what once I well Witnessed; so fortune fell
When Shrovetide, two years gone,
I have desired to go Where springs not fail,
To fields where flies no sharp and sided hail And a few lilies blow
And I have asked to be Where no storms come,
Where the green swell is in the havens dumb, And out of the swing of the s...
(Felled 1879)My aspens dear, whose airy cages quelled,
Quelled or quenched in leaves the leaping sun,
All felled, felled, are all felled;
Of a fresh and following folded
Not,
I'll not, carrion comfort,
Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist — slack they may be — these last strands of
Hark, hearer, hear what I do; lend a thought now, make believe We are leafwhelmed somewhere with the hood Of some branchy bunchy bushybowered wood,
Southern dene or Lancashire clough or Devon cleave,
That leans along the loins of hills, ...
Summer ends now; now, barbarous in beauty, the stooks
Around; up above, what wind-walks
what lovely
Of silk-sack clouds