In My Own Shire, If I Was Sad (A. E. Housman Poem)
In my own shire, if I was sad, Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed ...
In my own shire, if I was sad, Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed ...
And some time make the time to drive out west Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore, In September or ...
Just back from lunch with my wife. Getting back to work on a very rainy day. the sound of it ...
The slow calving of a glacier, the sudden eruption of a once dormant volcano The birth of a rainbow at ...
The beauty of creation is found in the context of creation the story of how we began the world beginning ...
Settling for a few moments sittings still in the midst of the stormy night lightening and thunder held at bay ...
Pale as the night that pales In the dawn's pearl-pure pavillion, I wait for thee, ...
Pale as the night that pales In the dawn's pearl-pure pavillion, I wait for thee, ...
This boy, of course, was dead, whatever that might mean. And nobly dead. I think we should feel he was ...
I. He was a Grecian lad, who coming home With pulpy figs and wine from Sicily Stood at his galley's ...
It is full summer now, the heart of June; Not yet the sunburnt reapers are astir Upon the upland meadow ...
To outer senses there is peace, A dreamy peace on either hand Deep silence in the shadowy land, Deep silence ...
Fate is above me. Why should I browse? Sleeping in dosses, an outcast, I rove. Grief is a cellar, that ...
King Arthur made new knights to fill the gap Left by the Holy Quest; and as he sat In hall ...
Send but a song oversea for us, Heart of their hearts who are free, Heart of their singer, to be ...
At the chill high tide of the night, At the turn of the fluctuant hours, When the waters of time ...
The trumpets of the four winds of the world From the ends of the earth blow battle; the night heaves, ...
In Pat Mahoney's booze bazaar the fun was fast and free, And Ragtime Billy spanked the baby grand; While caroling ...
They came in to the little town A semi-naked band subdued and silent All that remained of their tribe. They ...
All was taken away from you: white dresses, wings, even existence. Yet I believe you, messengers. There, where the world ...
The bird sits spelled upon the lithe brown wrist Of yonder turbaned fowler, who had lamed No feather limb, but ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories