Songs of the Autumn Nights (George MacDonald Poems)
I.O night, send up the harvest moonTo walk about the fields,And make of midnight magic noonOn lonely tarns and wealds.In ...
I.O night, send up the harvest moonTo walk about the fields,And make of midnight magic noonOn lonely tarns and wealds.In ...
Wonder I must, what I once may see Over the lofty mountains!Eyes shall meet only snow, may be;Standing here, each ...
THE alert and valiant faith that could respond,Upon life's threshold, to the highest call,Unquestioning of what might lie beyond,-Courage afield ...
What is that shimmering line of white Gliding under the stark midnight-- Gliding--gliding--gliding--gliding-- Where the river gleams when the ...
A metrical caprice.Up she rose, fair daughter--well she was gracedAs a cloud her going, stept from her chair,As a summer-soft ...
I Now it is autumn and the falling fruit and the long journey towards oblivion. The apples falling like great ...
It flows through old hushed Egypt and its sands, Like some grave mighty thought threading a dream, And times and ...
It flows through old hushed Egypt and its sands, Like some grave mighty thought threading a dream, And times and ...
Over the darkened city, the city of towers, The city of a thousand gates, Over the gleaming terraced roofs, the ...
To the Memory of the Household It Describes This Poem is Dedicated by the Author "As the Spirit of Darkness ...
1 PROUD music of the storm! Blast that careers so free, whistling across the prairies! Strong hum of forest tree-tops! ...
It's mighty nice at shut of day With weariness to hit the hey, To close your eyes, tired through and ...
The sheep are in the silver wood, The cows are in the broom; The goats are in the wild mountain ...
LONG ago I learned how to sleep, In an old apple orchard where the wind swept by counting its money ...
I sat beneath a willow tree, Where water falls and calls; While fancies upon fancies solaced me, Some true, and ...
It is no night to drown in: A full moon, river lapsing Black beneath bland mirror-sheen, The blue water-mists dropping ...
I know a place for loitering feet Deep in the valley where the breeze Makes melody in lichened boughs, And ...
There's a piping wind from a sunrise shore Blowing over a silver sea, There's a joyous voice in the lapsing ...
Read by the poet at The Public Ceremonial of The Naional Institute of Arts and Letters at Carnegie Hall, New ...
ALL day they loitered by the resting ships, Telling their beauties over, taking stock; At night the verdict left my ...
I have opened the window to warm my hands on the sill Where the sunlight soaks in the stone: the ...
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