"Mariana in the South" by John
William Waterhouse (1897)
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Mariana in the South
by Alred Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)
(frag)
Dreaming, she knew it was a dream:
She felt he was and
was not there.
She woke: the babble of the stream
Fell, and, without,
the steady glare
Shrank one sick willow sere and
small.
The river-bed was
dusty-white;
And all the furnace
of the light
Struck up against the blinding
wall.
She whisper’d,
with a stifled moan
More inward than at night or morn,
‘Sweet
Mother, let me not here alone
Live forgotten and die forlorn.
+ + +
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Ophelia's Muse
~ 2002 ~
A Tiny Webzine of Erotic Tragedies
Conceived & Edited by Jamie Joy Gatto
of Mind Caviar
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Archived Ophelia's Muse 2001
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A Collection of Erotic Tragedies
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