Sailor’s Pleasure (Cicely Fox Smith Poems)
When the time comes, as it will, that I go to sea no longer — Though maybe, please the ...
When the time comes, as it will, that I go to sea no longer — Though maybe, please the ...
O shipmates all, as you lay sleeping(Blow, boys, blow!)Across the world the day came creeping(Blow, boys, bully boys, blow!)With a ...
A three-skysail yarder with her hatches battened down,And the grey sky up above her, and the Mersey's muddy brownA-rippling at ...
O it's "ah fare ye well," for the deep sea's crying,You thought you could forget it, but it's no use ...
His net old fisher George long drew, Shoals upon shoals he caught,'Till death came hauling for his due And made ...
Before he was known, before he was seen healing, teaching, he walked the shore fresh from his cleansing, the anointing ...
Like an army general on parade reviewing the troops in the convoy tooling down the highway into battle I drove ...
Grandma, come back, I forgot How much lard for these rolls Think you can put yourself in the ground Like ...
(The Dry Salvages-presumably les trois sauvages-is a small group of rocks, with a beacon, off the N.E. coast of Cape ...
Ophelia puked hourly dawn till dusk, retching mucous slobber, then spewing air. Scum that I am, I never stopped thinking ...
Adieu to Belashanny! where I was bred and born; Go where I may, I'll think of you, as sure as ...
You mustn't show weakness and you've got to have a tan. But sometimes I feel like the thin veils of ...
I WAS asking for something specific and perfect for my city, Whereupon, lo! upsprang the aboriginal name! Now I see ...
Trudging by Corbie Ridge one winter's night, (Unless old hearsay memories tricked his sight) Along the pallid edge of the ...
PEA pods cling to stems. Neponset, the village, Clings to the Burlington railway main line. Terrible midnight limiteds roar through ...
AMONG the bumble-bees in red-top hay, a freckled field of brown-eyed Susans dripping yellow leaves in July, I read your ...
COUNT these reminiscences like money. The Greeks had their picnics under another name. The Romans wore glad rags and told ...
I WAS born on the prairie and the milk of its wheat, the red of its clover, the eyes of ...
THE LAWYERS, Bob, know too much. They are chums of the books of old John Marshall. They know it all, ...
Talking of poetry, hauling the books arm-full to the table where the heads bend or gaze upward, listening, reading aloud, ...
Take this quiet woman, she has been standing before a polishing wheel for over three hours, and she lacks twenty ...
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