Read more
Excerpt from Lyric Touches
Thought's span holding mistletoe Gathered from the braw oak's breast The sun's orbed fire seems altar ¿ame, The wrinkled oak a Druid priest.
Silently I bend my head Until the Druid cease to pray And chant to beads of mistletoe Ancient Briton carmina.
The mistletoe hath green gold pins Where pearls of waxen berries glow Such things as hold a lady's hair What if my love should stand below?
With brown large eyes where darkness haunts As in the deep of dreamy stream; Her braided hair in curves and curls With just enough of gold to gleam.
I 'd kneel me on the happy leaves Trembling and warm beneath her feet, And gentle draw her down beside Until the forfeit were complete.
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.
