The Sea By The Wood (Duncan Campbell Scott Poems)
I DWELL in the sea that is wild and deep, But afar in a shadow still,I can see the trees ...
I DWELL in the sea that is wild and deep, But afar in a shadow still,I can see the trees ...
See how the autumn leaves float by decaying,Down the wild swirls of the rain-swollen stream.So fleet the works of men, ...
I Frindsbury, Kent, 1786 Bang! Bang! Tap! Tap-a-tap! Rap! All through the lead and silver Winter days, All through the ...
The big teetotum twirls, And epochs wax and wane As chance subsides or swirls; But of the loss and gain ...
whirligig twister dancer prancer st vitus's quester chancer romancer the inkman cometh from that nether world where dream and coincidence ...
The snow, blowing, drifting stinging my face, the swirls bringing my throw, shovelful, back at me laughing, smiling to myself ...
The cooling fading sunset Ribbons of pink, wisps, swirls, pulled threads of taffy darkening color like watermelon taffy changing to ...
Boxes, and boxes, of beads little compartments, separated by color, by size, the charms in one, the tiger's eye another ...
It's snowing now as I write this note. Little temporal curtains of snow like pages of paper which materialize and ...
Dawn on the lake The world is still. Water like a mirror. Land and water blur. Bold bright colors in ...
Resurgent greens and stronger hues combined within the colours in-between will spring again, the reddish brown has nearly gone and ...
Sinuously winding through the room On smokey tongues of sweetened cigarettes, -- Plaintive yet proud the cello tones resume The ...
III Our sons have gone to serve the Reds to serve the Reds to risk their heads! O bitter,bitter pain, ...
I. Moonlight silvers the tops of trees, Moonlight whitens the lilac shadowed wall And through the evening fall, Clearly, as ...
Per me si va ne la citt? dolente, per me si va ne l'etterno dolore, per me si va tra ...
Not under foreign skies Nor under foreign wings protected - I shared all this with my own people There, where ...
In the burned house I am eating breakfast. You understand: there is no house, there is no breakfast, yet here ...
'Leeds welcomes you' in flowers Garlanding the white stuccoed tower Of City Station: red on green As poetry's demon seizes ...
for Brenda Williams The dawn cracked with ice, with fire grumbling in the grate, With ire in the homes we ...
I like divorce. I love to compose letters of resignation; now and then I send one in and leave in ...
A Fantasy, dedicated to the little poet Alice Oliver Henderson, ten years old. The Fantasy shows how tiger-hearts are the ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories