"All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered."
Must these eyes no more behold thee, Eurydice? Shall these arms no more enfold thee, Eurydice? Alas! in dreams I sometimes meet thee, As we met ere Hades’ portal Closed between us; and I greet thee, Call thee mine, and deem thee mortal, Eurydice! Call thee mine as, hand in hand, We wander by the...
The wintry wind sweeps down the plain, The larches bend like rushes, The frost makes pictures on the pane, The torrent wears an icy chain, The babbling streamlet hushes. The silent lake is frozen o'er, One solid flat from shore to shore, Where every sledge its progress tells With merriment of silver bells...
Another story by Amelia B. Edwards, after "The Phantom Coach" I gave you on Day 3. The events which I am about to relate took place between nine and ten years ago. Sebastopol had fallen in the early spring, the peace of Paris had been concluded...
Amelia B. Edwards (1831–1892) was a pioneering English novelist, journalist, traveller and Egyptologist, recognized for her significant contributions to the popularization of Egyptology during the Victorian era. Her literary career began early, with her first poem published at age seven and her first novel, My...
