- ON THE STROKE OF MIDNIGHT CHRISTINA ROSSETTI PROFESSIONAL
- ON THE STROKE OF MIDNIGHT CHRISTINA ROSSETTI TORRENT
They stretched and strained in the darkness, She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood! She twisted her hands behind her but all the knots held good! I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way! "Now, keep good watch!" and they kissed her. They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast! They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!įor Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride. They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,īut they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed King George's men came matching, up to the old inn-door. When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor, He did not come in the dawning he did not come at noon Īnd out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon, Then he tugged at his rein in the moonliglt, and galloped away to the West. (Oh, sweet, black waves in the moonlight!) He rose upright in the stirrups he scarce could reach her hand,īut she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brandĪs the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast Īnd he kissed its waves in the moonlight, I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way." Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day, "One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,īut I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,ĭumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say. Where Tim the ostler listened his face was white and peaked Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.Īnd dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,Īnd he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky. They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh! He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,Ī coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door. The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
ON THE STROKE OF MIDNIGHT CHRISTINA ROSSETTI TORRENT
THE wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, Personally, I look like a student studying natural science, which is exactly what I am, which means I've got no style at all.
ON THE STROKE OF MIDNIGHT CHRISTINA ROSSETTI PROFESSIONAL
This kid, may end up as a professional slum lord, or a music executive, or future real estate agent. Keep up the style kid, dress how you're going to live, and you'll end up living how you dress. I was relieved that he sounded like a regular kid though when he spoke, it would have spooked me otherwise.
This kid had style, and he walked with a swagger. So, the word getup was used appropriately. The "young man", was in his almost early twenties, with polished pointy black dress shoes, a long tweed trench coat, slacks, a white collar shirt with a black tie, big black shades with gold rims and an Andy cap, cap on his head.oh and ear buds. In my defense though, it was quite the getup. First, in my mind I must have decided somewhere I've grown old, and second that I used the word "getup". Yesterday at school, I had this thought "That's quite a getup, young man." There were a couple thoughts that followed.
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