



 


|
Selected
Poems
by
Frederick George Scott
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THE
FEUD
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'I
HEAR a cry from the Sansard cave,
O mother, will no one hearken?
A cry of the lost, will no one save?
A cry of the dead, though the ocean rave,
And the scream of a gull as he wheels o’er
a grave,
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the shadows darken and darken.'
'Oh, hush thee, child, for the night is wet,
And the cloud-caves split
asunder,
With lightening in a jagged fret,
Like the gleam of a salmon in the net,
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When
the rocks are rich in the red sunset,
And the stream rolls down
in thunder.' [Page 27]
'Mother, O mother, a pain at my heart,
A pang like the pang of
dying.”
“Oh, hush thee, child, for the wild birds
dart
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Up
and down, and close and part,
Wheeling round where the black cliffs start,
And the foam at their feet
is flying.'
'O mother, a strife like the black clouds’
strife,
And a peace that cometh
after.'
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“Hush,
child, for peace is the end of life,
And the heart of a maiden finds peace as a wife,
But the sky and the cliffs and the ocean are rife
With the storm and thunder’s
laughter.'
'Come in, my sons, come in and rest,
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25 |
For
the shadows darken and darken,
And your sister is pale as the white swan’s
breast,
And her eyes are fixed and her lips are pressed
In the death of a name ye might have guessed,
Had ye twain been here to
hearken.'
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30 |
' Hush, mother, a corpse lies on the sand,
And the spray is round it
driven,
It lies on its face, and one white hand
Points through the mist on the belt of strand
To where the cliffs of Sansard stand,
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35 |
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the ocean’s strength is riven.' [Page
28]
'Was it God, my sons, who laid him there?
Or the sea that left him
sleeping?'
' Nay, mother, our dirks where his heart was bare,
As swift as the rain through the teeth of the
air;
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And
the foam-fingers play in the Saxon’s hair,
While the tides are round
him creeping.'
'Oh, curses on you, hand and head,
Like the rains in this
wild weather,
The guilt of blood is swift and dread,
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45 |
Your
sister’s face is cold and dead,
Ye may not part whom God would wed
And love hath knit together.'
[Page 29]
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