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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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THE DEAN.

72 lines
Coventry Patmore·1823–1896
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 The Ladies rose. I held the door,And sigh’d, as her departing graceAssured me that she always woreA heart as happy as her face;And, jealous of the winds that blew,I dreaded, o’er the tasteless wine,What fortune momently might doTo hurt the hope that she’d be mine. 2 Towards my mark the Dean’s talk set:He praised my ‘Notes on Abury,’Read when the Association metAt Sarum; he was pleased to seeI had not stopp’d, as some men had,At Wrangler and Prize Poet; last,He hoped the business was not badI came about: then the wine pass’d. 3 A full glass prefaced my reply:I loved his daughter, Honor; I toldMy estate and prospects; might I tryTo win her? At my words so boldMy sick heart sank. Then he: He gaveHis glad consent, if I could getHer love. A dear, good Girl! she’d haveOnly three thousand pounds as yet;More bye and bye. Yes, his good willShould go with me; he would not stir;He and my father in old time stillWish’d I should one day marry her;But God so seldom lets us takeOur chosen pathway, when it liesIn steps that either mar or makeOr alter others’ destinies,That, though his blessing and his pray’rHad help’d, should help, my suit, yet heLeft all to me, his passive shareConsent and opportunity.My chance, he hoped, was good: I’d wonSome name already; friends and placeAppear’d within my reach, but noneHer mind and manners would not grace.Girls love to see the men in whomThey invest their vanities admired;Besides, where goodness is, there roomFor good to work will be desired.’Twas so with one now pass’d away;And what she was at twenty-two,Honor was now; and he might sayMine was a choice I could not rue. 4 He ceased, and gave his hand. He had won(And all my heart was in my word),From me the affection of a son,Whichever fortune Heaven conferr’d!Well, well, would I take more wine? Then goTo her; she makes tea on the lawnThese fine warm afternoons. And soWe went whither my soul was drawn;And her light-hearted ignoranceOf interest in our discourseFill’d me with love, and seem’d to enhanceHer beauty with pathetic force,As, through the flowery mazes sweet,Fronting the wind that flutter’d blythe,And loved her shape, and kiss’d her feet,Shown to their insteps proud and lithe,She approach’d, all mildness and young trust,And ever her chaste and noble airGave to love’s feast its choicest gust,A vague, faint augury of despair.
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