Poems by Jean Ingelow, In Two Volumes, Volume II.

Sparkle of snow and of frost,

Blythe air and the joy of cold,

Their grace and good they have lost,

As print o' her foot by the fold.

Let me back to yon desert sand,

Rose-lipped love-from the fold,

Flower-fair girl-from the fold,

Let me back to the sultry land.

The world is empty of cheer,

Forlorn, forlorn, and forlorn,

As the night-owl's sob of fear,

As Memnon moaning at morn.

For love of thee, my dear,

I have lived a better man,

O my Mary Anne,

My Mary Anne.

Away, away, and away,

To an old palm-land of tombs,

Washed clear of our yesterday

And where never a snowdrop blooms,

Nor wild becks talk as they go

Of tender hope we had known,

Nor mosses of memory grow

All over the wayside stone.

Rain clouds flew beyond the fell,

No more did thunders lower,

Patter, patter, on the beck

Dropt a clearing shower.

Eddying floats of creamy foam

Flecked the waters brown,

As we rode up to cross the ford,

Rode up from yonder town.

Waiting on the weather,

She and I together,

Waiting on the weather,

Till the flood went down.