Of rich fruit-bunches leaning on each other — Shadow forth thee:- the world hath not another (Though all her fairest forms are types of thee, And thou of God in thy great charity) Of such a finished chastened purity. MARIANA. "Mariana in the moated grange."— Measure for Measure. I. WITH blackest moss the flower-plots That held the peach to the garden-wall. Upon the lonely moated grange. She only said, "My life is dreary, He cometh not," she said; I would that I were dead!" II. Her tears fell with the dews at even; Either at morn or eventide. After the flitting of the bats, When thickest dark did trance the sky, She said, "I am aweary, aweary, III. Upon the middle of the night, Waking she heard the night-fowl crow: The cock sung out an hour ere light: From the dark fen the oxen's low Came to her: without hope of change, In sleep she seemed to walk forlorn, Till cold winds woke the gray-eyed morn About the lonely moated grange. She only said, "The day is dreary She said, "I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!" IV. About a stone-cast from the wall A sluice with blackened waters slept, All silver-green with gnarled bark: She only said, "My life is dreary, V. And ever when the moon was low, And the shrill winds were up In the white curtain, to and fro, and away, She saw the gusty shadow sway. But when the moon was very low, And wild winds bound within their cell, Upon her bed, across her brow. She only said, "The night is dreary, She said, "I am aweary, aweary, VI. All day within the dreamy house Old faces glimmered through the doors, |