Explore "The Sealing" by Gilbert Parker on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
But yestermorn my marshalled hopes were held / Upon the verge of august pilgrimage; / To-day I am as birds that leave the cage / To seek green fastnesses they knew of eld;
To-day I am as one who hides his face / Within his golden beaver, and whose hand / Clenches with pride his tried and conquering brand, / Ay, as a hunter mounted for the chase.
For, see: upon my lips I carry now / A touch that speaks reveille to my soul; / I have a dispensation large enow
To enfold the world and circumscribe each pole.
Slow let me speak it: From her lips and brow / I took the gifts she only could endow.