Full Online Books
Authors Authors Short Stories Short Stories Long Stories Long Stories Funny Stories Funny Stories Love Stories Love Stories Stories For Kids Stories For Kids Poems Poems Essays Essays Nonfictions Nonfictions Plays Plays Folktales Folktales Fairy Tales Fairy Tales Fables Fables Learning Kitchen Learning Kitchen
Valid XHTML 1.0 Transitional Free Classified Website Without Registration Free Classified Website Daniel Company
Twitter Twitter Add book
Full Online Book HomePoemsMystery
Famous Authors (View All Authors)
Mystery Post by :ecash Category :Poems Author :Charles Stuart Calverley Date :October 2011 Read :1293

Click below to download : Mystery (Format : PDF)


I know not if in others' eyes
She seem'd almost divine;
But far beyond a doubt it lies
That she did not in mine.

Each common stone on which she trod
I did not deem a pearl:
Nay it is not a little odd
How I abhorr'd that girl.

We met at balls and picnics oft,
Or on a drawingroom stair;
My aunt invariably cough'd
To warn me she was there:

At croquet I was bid remark
How queenly was her pose,
As with stern glee she drew the dark
Blue ball beneath her toes,

And made the Red fly many a foot:
Then calmly she would stoop,
Smiling an angel smile, to put
A partner through his hoop.

At archery I was made observe
That others aim'd more near.
But none so tenderly could curve
The elbow round the ear:

Or if we rode, perhaps she DID
Pull sharply at the curb;
But then the way in which she slid
From horseback was superb!

She'd throw off odes, again, whose flow
And fire were more than Sapphic;
Her voice was sweet, and very low;
Her singing quite seraphic:

She WAS a seraph, lacking wings.
That much I freely own.
But, it is one of those queer things
Whose cause is all unknown -

(Such are the wasp, the household fly,
The shapes that crawl and curl
By men called centipedes)--that I
Simply abhorred that girl.

* * *

No doubt some mystery underlies
All things which are and which are not:
And 'tis the function of the Wise
Not to expound to us what is what,

But let his consciousness play round
The matter, and at ease evolve
The problem, shallow or profound,
Which our poor wits have fail'd to solve,

Then tell us blandly we are fools;
Whereof we were aware before:
That truth they taught us at the schools,
And p'raps (who knows?) a little more.

- But why did we two disagree?
Our tastes, it may be, did not dovetail:
All I know is, we ne'er shall be
Hero and heroine of a love-tale.

(The end)
Charles Stuart Calverley's poem: Mystery

If you like this book please share to your friends :

Flight Flight

O memory! that which I gave thee To guard in thy garner yestreen -Little deeming thou e'er could'st behave thee Thus basely--hath gone from thee clean!Gone, fled, as ere autumn is ended The yellow leaves flee from the oak -I have lost it for ever, my splendid Original joke.What was it? I know I was brushing My hair when the notion occurred:I know that I felt myself blushing As I thought, "How supremely absurd!"How they'll hammer on floor and on table As its

Motherhood Motherhood

She laid it where the sunbeams fallUnscann'd upon the broken wall.Without a tear, without a groan,She laid it near a mighty stone,Which some rude swain had haply castThither in sport, long ages past,And Time with mosses had o'erlaid,And fenced with many a tall grassblade,And all about bid roses bloomAnd violets shed their soft perfume.There, in its cool and quiet bed,She set her burden down and fled:Nor flung, all eager to escape,One glance upon the perfect shapeThat lay, still warm and fresh and fair,But motionless and soundless there. No human eye had mark'd her passAcross the linden-shadow'd grassEre yet the