The Questioning Angels (Alexander Anderson Poems)
There ran behind the angels' wingsAn undertone of murmurings,Faint, as when sighing autumn grieves,And wrings her palms of wither'd leaves.Then ...
There ran behind the angels' wingsAn undertone of murmurings,Faint, as when sighing autumn grieves,And wrings her palms of wither'd leaves.Then ...
Joy, I did lock thee up: but some bad man Hath let thee out again:And ...
First, there's the entrance, narrow, and so small,The hat-stand seems to fill the tiny hall;That staircase, too, has such ...
I.IN old Shuil Donald's cottage there are many voices weeping, And stifled sobs, and murmurings of sorrow wild and vain, ...
Tired with dull grief, grown old before my day,I sit in solitude and only hearLong silent laughters, murmurings of dismay,The ...
Air — "The Bog o' Gight."Oh, Cairney burn, sweet Cairney burn,Thou makest many a winding turn;How sweet thy murmurings to ...
The seven fleets of Venice Set sail across the sea For Cyprus and for Trebizond Ayoub and Araby. Their gonfalons ...
IT shifts and shifts from form to form, It drifts and darkles, gleams and glows; It is the passion of ...
DAY has fled to the west afar,Where no shadows or sorrows are;O'er earth's radiant western rimGod has gathered the day ...
Oft have I stood within the carven door Of some cathedral at the close of the day, ...
THROUGH the air with a sound of wings,And a sea-wave's glistening rise and fall,In the apple-tree Marian swings.Like a skylark ...
THE chant of the soul that singsOf earth's great comforting things:I tell of the free blue spaces,Of flow'rs, and the ...
WHY do I make no poems? Good my friend Now is there silence through the summer woods, In whose green ...
LIKE Clotho, at her harp she sits and weavesWith mystic fingers from the swaying stringsA melody that ever louder singsAnd ...
Bath The day is fresh-washed and fair, and there is a smell of tulips and narcissus in the air. The ...
Sweet Amarillis, by a spring's Soft and soul-melting murmurings, Slept; and thus sleeping, thither flew A Robin-red-breast; who at view, ...
No more noisy, loud words from me---such is my master's will. Henceforth I deal in whispers. The speech of my ...
Wreathe in a garland the corn's golden ear! With it, the Cyane blue intertwine Rapture must render each glance ...
One night one night all full of murmurings, of perfumes and music of wings; one night in which fantastic fireflies ...
AS from our dream we died away Far off I felt the outer things; Your wind-blown tresses round me play, ...
I Partly to think, more to be left alone, George Annandale said something to his friends- A word or two, ...
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