Full Online Books
BOOK CATEGORIES
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
LINKS
Valid XHTML 1.0 Transitional Free Classified Website Without Registration Free Classified Website Daniel Company
Twitter Twitter Add book
donate
Full Online Book HomePoemsThe Strange Lady
Famous Authors (View All Authors)
The Strange Lady Post by :win_thomas Category :Poems Author :William Cullen Bryant Date :January 2011 Read :1447

Click below to download : The Strange Lady (Format : PDF)

The Strange Lady

The summer morn is bright and fresh, the birds are darting by,
As if they loved to breast the breeze that sweeps the cool clear sky;
Young Albert, in the forest's edge, has heard a rustling sound,
An arrow slightly strikes his hand and falls upon the ground.

A dark-haired woman from the wood comes suddenly in sight;
Her merry eye is full and black, her cheek is brown and bright;
Her gown is of the mid-sea blue, her belt with beads is strung,
And yet she speaks in gentle tones, and in the English tongue.

"It was an idle bolt I sent, against the villain crow;
Fair sir, I fear it harmed thy hand; beshrew my erring bow!"
"Ah! would that bolt had not been spent! then, lady, might I wear
A lasting token on my hand of one so passing fair!"

"Thou art a flatterer like the rest, but wouldst thou take with me
A day of hunting in the wilds, beneath the greenwood tree,
I know where most the pheasants feed, and where the red-deer herd,
And thou shouldst chase the nobler game, and I bring down the bird."

Now Albert in her quiver lays the arrow in its place,
And wonders as he gazes on the beauty of her face:
"Those hunting-grounds are far away, and, lady, 'twere not meet
That night, amid the wilderness, should overtake thy feet."

"Heed not the night; a summer lodge amid the wild is mine,--
'Tis shadowed by the tulip-tree, 'tis mantled by the vine;
The wild plum sheds its yellow fruit from fragrant thickets nigh,
And flowery prairies from the door stretch till they meet the sky.

"There in the boughs that hide the roof the mock-bird sits and sings,
And there the hang-bird's brood within its little hammock swings;
A pebbly brook, where rustling winds among the hopples sweep,
Shall lull thee till the morning sun looks in upon thy sleep."

Away, into the forest depths by pleasant paths they go,
He with his rifle on his arm, the lady with her bow,
Where cornels arch their cool dark boughs o'er beds of winter-green,
And never at his father's door again was Albert seen.

That night upon the woods came down a furious hurricane,
With howl of winds and roar of streams, and beating of the rain;
The mighty thunder broke and drowned the noises in its crash;
The old trees seemed to fight like fiends beneath the lightning-flash.

Next day, within a mossy glen, 'mid mouldering trunks were found
The fragments of a human form upon the bloody ground;
White bones from which the flesh was torn, and locks of glossy hair;
They laid them in the place of graves, yet wist not whose they were.

And whether famished evening wolves had mangled Albert so,
Or that strange dame so gay and fair were some mysterious foe,
Or whether to that forest lodge, beyond the mountains blue,
He went to dwell with her, the friends who mourned him never knew.


(The end)
William Cullen Bryant's poem: Strange Lady

If you like this book please share to your friends :
NEXT BOOKS

'earth's Children Cleave To Earth' "earth's Children Cleave To Earth"

'earth's Children Cleave To Earth'
Earth's children cleave to Earth--her frail Decaying children dread decay.Yon wreath of mist that leaves the vale, And lessens in the morning ray:Look, how, by mountain rivulet, It lingers as it upward creeps,And clings to fern and copsewood set Along the green and dewy steeps:Clings to the fragrant kalmia, clings To precipices fringed with grass,Dark maples where the wood-thrush sings, And bowers of fragrant sassafras.Yet all in vain--it passes still From hold to hold, it cannot stay,And in the very beams that fill The world with glory, wastes away,Till, parting from the mountain's brow, It vanishes from human eye,And that which
PREVIOUS BOOKS

Catterskill Falls Catterskill Falls

Catterskill Falls
Midst greens and shades the Catterskill leaps, From cliffs where the wood-flower clings;All summer he moistens his verdant steeps With the sweet light spray of the mountain springs;And he shakes the woods on the mountain side,When they drip with the rains of autumn-tide.But when, in the forest bare and old, The blast of December calls,He builds, in the starlight clear and cold, A palace of ice where his torrent falls,With turret, and arch, and fretwork fair,And pillars blue as the summer air.For whom are those glorious chambers wrought, In the cold and cloudless night?Is there neither spirit nor motion of thought
NEXT 10 BOOKS | PREVIOUS 10 BOOKS | RANDOM 10 BOOKS
LEAVE A COMMENT