The Fox’s Prophecy (D W Nash Poems)
Tom Hill was in the saddle,One bright November morn,The echoing glades of Guiting WoodWere ringing with his horn.The diamonds of ...
Tom Hill was in the saddle,One bright November morn,The echoing glades of Guiting WoodWere ringing with his horn.The diamonds of ...
October 2: 15861 Where Guelderland outspreads Her green wide water-meads Laced by the silver ...
IAS lightly as a filmy veilThat folds the April larch,My tenderest joy drops like a dreamDown from the buds of ...
No harsh complaint nor rude unmannered wo,Shall jar discordant in the dulcet flowOf music, raining through the chestnut wingsOf the ...
Daughter of the daughter of the daughters of the daughter Peforeto the apple you ate of yeebeguiling Adam's heights foreto ...
A song I sing o' t' Yorkshire dales, That Winnd frae t' moors to t' sea; Frae t' ...
Three summer's since I chose a maid,Too young may be - but more's to doAt harvest time than bide and ...
I come, I come! ye have called me long;I come o'er the mountains, with light and song.Ye may trace my ...
YOUR jealous walls, great Duke, in vainAll access would refuse;What walls can Highland steps restrain?What bars keep out the Muse?Where'er ...
If you will poise your forefoot in my pool, I will not loose a ripple, Beautiful.Crackle the fern-stems, arch aloft ...
The stage was set, the house was packed,The famous troop began;Our laughter thundered, act by act;Time light as sunbeams ran.Dance ...
They're leadin' brekkons doon fra' moors For cattle-beddin'On t'track 'at goes by t' larch plantation To ...
"Give me of your bark, O Birch-tree! Of your yellow bark, O Birch-tree! Growing by the rushing river, Tall and ...
While yet we wait for spring, and from the dry And blackening east that so embitters March, Well-housed must watch ...
1 They that in play can do the thing they would, Having an instinct throned in reason's place, --And every ...
40-acre growth found in Michigan. - The Los Angeles Times The sky is full of ruddy ducks and widgeon's, mockingbirds, ...
(Newdigate prize poem recited in the Sheldonian Theatre Oxford June 26th, 1878. To my friend George Fleming author of 'The ...
The little white clouds are racing over the sky, And the fields are strewn with the gold of the flower ...
Here in the garden-bed, Hoeing the celery, Wonders the Lord has made Pass ever before me. I see the young ...
Mad March, with the wind in his wings wide-spread, Leaps from heaven, and the deep dawn's arch Hails re-risen again ...
Ah in the thunder air how still the trees are! And the lime-tree, lovely and tall, every leaf silent hardly ...
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