e gold and green, the glory of thine head,Of bough and branch have fallen ? O, the white,Gaunt ghosts that flutter where thy feet have sped, Across the terrace, that is desolate,But rang then with thy laughter : ghost of thee,That holds its shroud up with most delicateDead fingers ; and, behind,… … ROSA ALCHEMICA i FEW years ago an extraordinary religious frenzy took holdupon the peasantry of a remote Connemara headland ; anda number of eccentric men and women, who had turned anold custom-house into a kind of college, were surprised atprayer, as it was then believed, by a mob of fishermen,…
English literature · Literature, Modern · Art
Internet Archive · Philadelphia Museum of Art · Public Domain Mark 1.0. Free to use for anything.
