Vignettes: Pastels in Prose (Classic Reprint) - Tapa blanda

Sinopsis

Excerpt from Vignettes: Pastels in Prose

Hlubert, who loved the country and the town, Has left his friends; and England sees no more The young, slight figure, musing on the down, Nor France his quiet eyes, that o'er and o'er Traveled her landscape, shaping it so well. His joys were there, but pity for mankind Dnew 'him where surging cities moved his soul: He wrote of men and women, wrecked and pined With bitter sorrow; and the misery stole Into his life till he bade life farewell. Pity he could not stay, for he was true, Tender and chivalrous, and without spot; Loving things great and good, and love like dew Fell from his heart on those that loved him not; But those that loved him knew that he loved well. Too rough his sea, too dark its angry tides! Things of a day are we; shadows that move The lands of shadow; but, where he abides, Time is no more; and that great substance, Love, Is shadowless. And yet, we grieve. Farewell.

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