Dance Of The Seasons (Harriet Monroe Poems)
I-SpringAllegroWake ! wake !Out of the snow and the mist,In rain-wet wind-blown gauzeOf amber and amethyst,Cometh Spring like a girl.Trembling ...
I-SpringAllegroWake ! wake !Out of the snow and the mist,In rain-wet wind-blown gauzeOf amber and amethyst,Cometh Spring like a girl.Trembling ...
Raised by the coming plough, the merry larkUpsprings, and, soaring, joins the high-poised choirsThat carol far and near, in spiral ...
Dimly and dumbly under the ground,Groping the walls of their prison round,The roots of the aged and garrulous treesAre sending ...
IAh, who will tell me, in these leaden days,Why the sweet Spring delays,And where she hides,-the dear desire Of every heart ...
I.TUSCARA! thou art lovely now,Thy woods, that frown'd in sullen strengthLike plumage on a giant's brow,Have bowed their massy pride ...
ITuscara! thou art lovely now,Thy woods, that frown'd in sullen strengthLike plumage on a giant's brow,Have bowed their massy pride ...
The island sleeps,-but it has no delightFor em, to whom that sleep has been unkind.My thoughts are long of what ...
Rosy red the hills appearWith the light of morning,Beauteous clouds, in aether clear,All the east adorning;White through the mist the ...
The snow-drops sword-like pierce the lagging snows, The Winter dies with blessings on the Spring, The violet sweet, which Love himself well ...
I See the snow-drops flutterTheir white wings in the gale.I hear the robin utterOn high his gallant tale.Look where the ...
In the everlasting armsMid life's dangers and alarmsLet calm trust your spirit fill;Know He's God, and then be still.Trustingly I ...
Once more the Heavenly PowerMakes all things new,And domes the red-plowed hillsWith loving blue; The blackbirds have their wills,The throstles ...
They heard the South wind sighingA murmur of the rain;And they knew that Earth was longingTo see them all again.While ...
Season of sighs perfumed, and maiden flowers,Young Beauty's birthday, cradled in delightAnd kept by muses in the blushing bowersWhere snow-drops ...
I Ah, who will tell me, in these leaden days, Why the sweet Spring delays, And where she hides, -- ...
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