Louise Imogen Guiney

North from the beautiful islands, North from the headlands and highlands, The long sea-wall, The white ships flee with the swallow; The day-beams follow and follow, Glitter and fall. The brown ruddy children that fear not, Lean over the quay, and they hear not Warnings of lips; For their hearts go a-sailing, a-sailing, Out from the wharves and the wailing After the ships.

Excerpt from Happy Ending: The Collected Lyrics of Louise Imogen Guiney This volume has been garnered from the au thor's earlier books. Two poems have been chosen from The White Sail (1 887) nine Oxford Sonnets from a privately printed book let since added to, and much altered; and many lyrics, under a revised form, from A Roadside Harp and The Mar tyrs' Idyl plus some twenty newer titles transferred, with grateful acknowledg ments, from M cc lure's Magazine, Tbe fltlantie, Harper's, Scribner's, and The Century. The principle of exclusion goes far enough to cover all poems in narrative form, or of any appreciable length, or translated; also, any which seemed out of keeping with the character of the present collection. Such as that is, it comprises the less.

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Though his curate was away, the incumbent of Orrinleigh, my kind Cyril Nasmith, had thrown aside his everlasting scrolls and folios, and spent the whole morning out-of-doors with me. We had been over the castle park and gallery, and even into the dairy, and thence up the path by a trout-stream to the site of a Saxon city; and Nasmith had been enthusiastically educating me all the way. I knew that there was little enough for him to do meanwhile. His village sheep were very tame and white; and his other sheep, at the manor, all wild and black: theology seemed to fall rather flat between them. So, by the dispensation of Providence, in his work-day leisure he had relapsed into the one intellectual passion of his life, arch ology: a wise, worshipping sort of man, and the prince of Anglican antiquaries. As for me, he loved me better than ever when he found what genuine interest I took in his quiet hidden corner of --shire, whither I came from London to pass a memorable night and day with him, after a sixteen years' separation; for his boyhood had been spent in my own Maryland, his mother's family being Americans. It was a little sober, pastoral place, this Orrinleigh, with its straw-browed cottages bosomed in roses, sitting all in a row upon the overshaded lane, and, from the height where we stood, looking like so many sepia-tinted mushrooms in the broad green world. Just beyond us, in the near neighborhood of Orrinleigh House, the gray sham-Grecian porch of his ritualistic Tudor church skulked in the faint May sun. "What do you call that?" I said. "It is the one ugly thing hereabouts."

Excerpt from England and Yesterday: A Book of Short Poems Not now for secular love's unquiet lease, Receive my soul, who, rapt in thee erewhile, Hath broken tryst with transitory things But seal with her a marriage and a peace Eternal, on thine Edward's altar-isle. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.

Reproduction of the original: A Roadside Harp by Louise Imogen Guiney

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