The Summer Pool (William Cosmo Monkhouse Poems)
THERE is a singing in the summer air,The blue and brown moths flutter o'er the grass,The stubble bird is creaking ...
THERE is a singing in the summer air,The blue and brown moths flutter o'er the grass,The stubble bird is creaking ...
Mother, the light has grown grey in the sky; I do not know whatthe time is. There is no fun in ...
The weary summer's all-consuming heatIs tempered now; for from the frozen pole,The freed north winds come fiercely rushing forth,Wrapt in ...
"Valued companion of my expeditions, Wanderings, and my street perambulations, What can be more deserving of my praises Than my umbrella? "Under thine ample ...
Do they think of us, say--in the far distant West--On the Prairies of ...
It is time for me to go, mother; I am going. When in the paling darkness of the lonely dawn you ...
The raindrops fall.Thousands of raindropspatter down on the leaves of the foresthigh up on the mountain.The rain soaks into the ...
Give me a harsh land to wring music from,brown hills, and dust, with dead grassstraw to my bricks.Give me words ...
Books litter the bed,leaves the lawn. Itlightly rains. Fall hascome: unpatterned, inthe shedding leaves.The maples ripen. Applescome home crisp in ...
Two lovers, here at the corner, by the steeple,Two lovers blow together like music blowing:And the crowd dissolves about them ...
Drip, drip, drip! It tinkles on the fly- The pitiless outpouring of an overburdened sky: Each drooping frond of pine ...
LONG months, aye years, of dreary dearthHave scathed the beauty of the earth;No humblest weed, no blade of green,For miles ...
JUST as of yore the friendly rain Patters its old and frank refrain; Just as of yore the ...
Cold is the wind, fast falls the rain, The cock aye shrilly crows. But I have seen my lord ...
I Over the yawning chimney hangs the fog. Drip -- hiss -- drip -- hiss -- fall the raindrops on ...
Two lovers, here at the corner, by the steeple, Two lovers blow together like music blowing: And the crowd dissolves ...
It is time for me to go, mother; I am going. When in the paling darkness of the lonely dawn ...
Mother, the light has grown grey in the sky; I do not know what the time is. There is no ...
Books litter the bed, leaves the lawn. It lightly rains. Fall has come: unpatterned, in the shedding leaves. The maples ...
Faint gleams the evening radiance thro' the sky, The sober twilight dimly darkens round; In short quick circles the shrill ...
Give me the scorn of the stars and a peak defiant; Wail of the pines and a wind with the ...
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