Festus – XXXIII (Philip James Bailey Poems)
As in our sky sometimes a vaporous massLow down, shows thunder threatening; while by windsOf happier, if adverse wing fanned, ...
As in our sky sometimes a vaporous massLow down, shows thunder threatening; while by windsOf happier, if adverse wing fanned, ...
I.St. Agnes' Eve--Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen ...
BOOK I.I.I sing the Cross!—Ye white-robed angel choirs,Who know the chords of harmony to sweep,Ye who o'er holy David's varying ...
I.All joy to thee, my country, and my pride!Be the glad muse my patriot lay to guide; Suggest the thought, and ...
Absence.Neglected, now, behold my Tresses flow:Nor sparkling Diamonds on my Fingers glow.All plain, and cheap, the humble Weeds I wear:No ...
Night rests in beauty on Mont Alto.Beneath its shade the beauteous Arno sleepsIn vallombrosa's bosom, and dark treesBend with a ...
Beside the saffron of a curtain, litWith broidered flowers, below a golden fringeThat on her silver shoulder made a glow,Like ...
My young heart's luve! twal' years ha'e been A century to me; I ha'e na seen thy smile, nor heard Thy voice's melodie. The ...
O Earth, adore creative power,That made and gave to man as dower,This world of beauty rare,With hills and vales of ...
And what is love? It is a doll dress'd upFor idleness to cosset, nurse, and dandle;A thing of soft misnomers, ...
See what a mass of gems the city wearsUpon her broad live bosom ! row on rowRubies and emeralds and ...
Sing me a song of a vanished race That fled from Gran QuiviraDown through the Upper Rio Grande Past pinnacled tiara.Tell me ...
In that soft season, when descending show'rsCall forth the greens, and wake the rising flow'rs;When op'ning buds salute the welcome ...
AN APOSTROPHE TO THE MOON.O, silvery moon, fair mistress of the night,Thou mellow, ever vaccilating orb,How many eons of unmeasured ...
Beside that giant stream that foams and swellsBetwixt Hy-Conaill and Moyarta's shore,And guards the isle where good Senanus dwells,A gentle ...
O Rome, tremendous! who, beholding thee, Shall not forget the bitterest private grief That e'er made havoc of ...
When on high the heaven had not been named, Firm ground below had not been called by name, Naught but ...
'Twas night, and now advanc'd the solemn hour;The keeper of the prison, from his tow'r, Astonish'd, sees a form divinely ...
I don't remember exactly when Budberg died, it was either two years ago or three. The same ...
St. Agnes' Eve--Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limp'd trembling through ...
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