Sonnet. Oh no!-I will not give my heart to thee (Edward Henry Bickersteth Poems)
Oh no!-I will not give my heart to thee, Cold, mocking world!-I still would wish to be Apart from thy ...
Oh no!-I will not give my heart to thee, Cold, mocking world!-I still would wish to be Apart from thy ...
I would have been as great as George EliotBut for an untoward fate.For look at the photograph of me made ...
THESE pangs I bear through lingering centuries For slavish Man, in pity and in scorn; Glad, while by birds of ...
As down the sun sinks when the day is over, Bereaving earth, his sad forsaken lover, A star he leaves ...
There is fog upon the river, there is mirk upon the town; You can hear the groping ferries as they ...
"As certain also of your own poets have said"-- (Acts 17.28) Cleon the poet (from the sprinkled isles, Lily on ...
But in the Wine-presses the human grapes sing not nor dance: They howl and writhe in shoals of torment, in ...
(To Ellen Terry) In the lone tent, waiting for victory, She stands with eyes marred by the mists of pain, ...
Hark where the bells toll, chiming, dull and steady, The clock's slow hand hath reached the appointed time. Well, be ...
I know a village in a far-off land Where from a sunny, mountain-girdled plain With tinted walls a space on ...
I wanted the gold, and I sought it, I scrabbled and mucked like a slave. Was it famine or scurvy ...
Men of the High North, the wild sky is blazing; Islands of opal float on silver seas; Swift splendors kindle, ...
Hog Butcher for the World, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and the Nation's Freight Handler; Stormy, husky, ...
forever in bed waiting for heat luring black cat Tristana into trust (Wanda Phipps)
Through the pungent hours of the afternoon, On the autumn slopes we have lightly wandered Where the sunshine lay in ...
Over the fields we go, through the sweets of the purple clover, That letters a message for us as for ...
Lo, it is dark, Save for the crystal spark Of a virgin star o'er the purpling lea, Or the fine, ...
We shall launch our shallop on waters blue from some dim primrose shore, We shall sail with the magic of ...
Under yonder beech-tree single on the green-sward, Couched with her arms behind her golden head, Knees and tresses folded to ...
I would have been as great as George Eliot But for an untoward fate. For look at the photograph of ...
Why was I not devoured by self-contempt, And rotted down by indifference And impotent revolt like Indignation Jones? Why, with ...
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