Explore "A Memory of Ellen Terry's Beatrice" by Helen Gray Cone on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A wind of spring that whirls the feignéd snows / Of blossom-petals in the face, and flees: / Elusive, made of mirthful mockeries, / Yet tender with the prescience of the rose; / A strain desired, that through the memory goes, / Too subtle-slender for the voice to seize; / A flame dissembled, only lit to tease, / Whose touch were half a kiss, if one but knows.
She shows by Leonato's dove-like daughter / A falcon, by a prince to be possessed, / Gay-graced with bells that ever chiming are; / In azure of the bright Sicilian water, / A billow that has rapt into its breast / The swayed reflection of a dancing star!