With Scindia to Delphi (Rudyard Kipling Poem)
More than a hundred years ago, in a great battle fought near Delhi, an Indian Prince rode fifty miles after ...
More than a hundred years ago, in a great battle fought near Delhi, an Indian Prince rode fifty miles after ...
Who goes amid the green wood With springtide all adorning her? Who goes amid the merry green wood To make ...
I walk so often, late, along the streets, Lower my gaze, and hurry, full of dread, Suddenly, silently, you still ...
Shall I move the flowers again? Shall I put them further to the left into the light? Win that fix ...
Sparks of gold, of silver, splashes of color rising up from the new-fallen snow greeting my lowered head deep in ...
Footprints in the frozen mud crowns of the craters perching between the peaks grabbing the tops of the hollow cups ...
The mountain brook sung lonesomelike, and loitered on its way Ez if it waited for a child to jine it ...
When the busy day is done, And my weary little one Rocketh gently to and fro; When the night winds ...
The sound of the closing outside door was all. You made no sound in the grass with your footfall, As ...
The First Voice HE trilled a carol fresh and free, He laughed aloud for very glee: There came a breeze ...
Voices out of the shade that cried, And long noon in the hot calm places, And children's play by the ...
I. THE FLOWER'S NAME Here's the garden she walked across, Arm in my arm, such a short while since: Hark, ...
Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten, Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold. Let it ...
I I, in my intricate image, stride on two levels, Forged in man's minerals, the brassy orator Laying my ghost ...
I Beyond the hollow sunset, ere a star Take heart in heaven from eastward, while the west, Fulfilled of watery ...
Hear I the creaking gate unclose? The gleaming latch uplifted? No--'twas the wind that, whirring, rose, Amidst the poplars drifted! ...
When you come home I'll not be round To welcome you. They'll take you to a grassy mound So neat ...
There was such speed in her little body, And such lightness in her footfall, It is no wonder her brown ...
I love you - though it makes me beat, Though vain it seems, and melancholy - Yet to this shameless, ...
Oh, lead me to a quiet cell Where never footfall rankles, And bar the window passing well, And gyve my ...
Grief hath pacified her face; Even hope might share so still a place; Yet, on the silence of her heart, ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories