Jean Ingelow

And old affront will stir the heart
Through years of rankling pain.

And old affront will stir the heart
Through years of rankling pain.

Man is the miracle in nature. God
Is the One Miracle to man. Behold,
"There is a read more

Man is the miracle in nature. God
Is the One Miracle to man. Behold,
"There is a God," thou sayest. Thou sayest well:
In that thou sayest all. To Be is more
Of wonderful, than being, to have wrought,
Or reigned, or rested.

The old mayor climbed the belfry tower,
The ringers ran by two, by three;
"Pull, if ye read more

The old mayor climbed the belfry tower,
The ringers ran by two, by three;
"Pull, if ye never pulled before;
Good ringers, pull your best," quoth he.
"Play uppe, play uppe, O Boston bells!
Ply all your changes, all your swells,
Play uppe The Brides of Enderby."

Her face betokened all things dear and good,
The light of somewhat yet to come was there
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Her face betokened all things dear and good,
The light of somewhat yet to come was there
Asleep, and waiting for the opening day,
When childish thoughts, like flowers would drift away.

And bitter waxed the fray;
Brother with brother spake no word
When they met in the way.

And bitter waxed the fray;
Brother with brother spake no word
When they met in the way.