Frances
Cornford .
YOUTH .
A
YOUNG
Apollo , golden -haired,
Stands dreaming
on
the verge of strife ,
Magnificently
unprepared
For
the
long
littleness
of
life
.
THE
CERTAIN
KNOT
OF
PEACE
.
SO
,
my
proud
soul
,
so
you
,
whose shining
force
Had
galloped
with me
to
eternity
,
Stand
now
,
appealing like
a
tired
horse
:
Unharness me
.
O
passionate
world
;
O
faces
of
my friends
!
O
half
-
grasped
meanings
,
intricate
and
deep
!
Sudden
,
as
with
a
child
,
the tumult ends
,
Silenced
by
sleep
.
PRE
-
EXISTENCE
.
I
LAID me down
upon
the
shore
And
dreamed
a
little
space
;
I
heard
the
great waves
break
and
roar
,
The
sun
was
on
my
face
.