Idealism (E J Rupert Atkinson Poems)
YOURSELF most composite,Chequered with day and night,What secret thing are you? -Behold that sky of blue:All that you hear and ...
YOURSELF most composite,Chequered with day and night,What secret thing are you? -Behold that sky of blue:All that you hear and ...
Chequered with sunshine and shade-the umbrage of white clouds in motion-Rearing their summits to Heaven, broken like waves on their ...
The moon on the oceanWas dimmed by a rippleAffording a chequered delight;The gay jolly tarsPassed a word for the tipple,And ...
A black cat among roses, Phlox, lilac-misted under a first-quarter moon, The sweet smells of heliotrope and night-scented stock. The ...
They say there's a high windless world and strange, Out of the wash of days and temporal tide, Where Faith ...
Heavy with haze that merges and melts free Into the measureless depth on either hand, The ...
Changeful with glow and chequered shade, a sight Now gloom'd with grief, and now with joy elate, How strange, how ...
I cannot tell thee, Sweet, what tenderness Flows from my heart, through chequered hopes and fears-- What mournful gladness and ...
Over the white cliffs, over the downlands whirring,Out of the dappled east with dawn aflame,The moon pale in the sky, ...
Cross-hatchings of rain against grey walls, Slant lines of black rain In front of the up and down, wet stone ...
A bullet through his heart at dawn. On the table a letter signed with a woman's name. A wind that ...
I The Trumpet-Vine Arbour The throats of the little red trumpet-flowers are wide open, And the clangour of brass beats ...
This little bowl is like a mossy pool In a Spring wood, where dogtooth violets grow Nodding in chequered sunshine ...
I thought it made me look more 'working class' (as if a bit of chequered cloth could bridge that gap!) ...
At my feet the lapdogs of desire, I wont greet their fawning, least not yet, their foul breath would shrink ...
'Twas after dread Pultowa's day, When fortune left the royal Swede - Around a slaughtered army lay, No more to ...
"As certain also of your own poets have said"-- (Acts 17.28) Cleon the poet (from the sprinkled isles, Lily on ...
Out upon the sand-dunes thrive the coarse long grasses; Herons standing knee-deep in the brackish pool; Overhead the sunset fire ...
TO her, for I must still regard her As feminine in her degree, Who has been my unkind bombarder Year ...
Give me back my rags My rags of pure dreaming Of silk smiling of striped foreboding Of my cloth of ...
Hence, loathed Melancholy, ............Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born In Stygian cave forlorn ............'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights ...
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