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ReadingWillow structured literacy program for Australian students
Poetry Library

— Stephen Crane

I stood upon a high place,

And saw, below, many devils

Running, leaping,

And carousing in sin.

…

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adjective

Engaged in or ready for action; characterized by energetic work, thought, or speech.

“The students were very active in class discussions, asking many thoughtful questions.”

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I. SAINT VALENTINE'S DAY.

57 lines
Coventry Patmore·1823–1896
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ell dost thou, Love, thy solemn Feast to holdIn vestal February;Not rather choosing out some rosy dayFrom the rich coronet of the coming May,When all things meet to marry!O, quick, praevernal PowerThat signall'st punctual through the sleepy mouldThe Snowdrop's time to flower,Fair as the rash oath of virginityWhich is first-love's first cry;O, Baby Spring,That flutter'st sudden 'neath the breast of EarthA month before the birth;Whence is the peaceful poignancy,The joy contrite,Sadder than sorrow, sweeter than delight,That burthens now the breath of everything,Though each one sighs as if to each aloneThe cherish'd pang were known?At dusk of dawn, on his dark spray apart,With it the Blackbird breaks the young Day's heart;In evening's hushAbout it talks the heavenly-minded Thrush;The hill with like remorseSmiles to the Sun's smile in his westering course;The fisher's drooping skiffIn yonder sheltering bay;The choughs that call about the shining cliff;The children, noisy in the setting ray;Own the sweet season, each thing as it may;Thoughts of strange kindness and forgotten peaceIn me increase;And tears ariseWithin my happy, happy Mistress' eyes,And, lo, her lips, averted from my kiss,Ask from Love's bounty, ah, much more than bliss!Is't the sequester'd and exceeding sweetOf dear Desire electing his defeat?Is't the waked Earth now to yon purpling copeUttering first-love's first cry,Vainly renouncing, with a Seraph's sigh,Love's natural hope?Fair-meaning Earth, foredoom'd to perjury!Behold, all-amorous May,With roses heap'd upon her laughing brows,Avoids thee of thy vows!Were it for thee, with her warm bosom near,To abide the sharpness of the Seraph's sphere?Forget thy foolish words;Go to her summons gay,Thy heart with dead, wing'd Innocencies fill'd,Ev'n as a nest with birdsAfter the old ones by the hawk are kill'd.Well dost thou, Love, to celebrateThe noon of thy soft ecstasy,Or e'er it be too late,Or e'er the Snowdrop die!
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