Wheat (Clinton Scollard Poems)
Behold a billowy sea of golden spears That to and fro in every breeze that blows Tosses its amber waves ...
Behold a billowy sea of golden spears That to and fro in every breeze that blows Tosses its amber waves ...
As from his wrist the eager falconer Tosses his hawk upon the windy sky, So from my lips this kiss ...
"GREY rocks, and greyer sea, And surf along the shore- And in my heart a name My lips ...
I would my soul were like the bird That dares the vastness undeterred. Look, where the bluebird on the bough ...
Bitter is the wind tonight.It tosses the ocean's white hair.Tonight I fear not the fierce warriors of NorwayCoursing on the ...
Slowly, without force, the rain drops into the city. It stops a moment on the carved head of Saint John, ...
Bath The day is fresh-washed and fair, and there is a smell of tulips and narcissus in the air. The ...
Patience, hard thing! the hard thing but to pray, But bid for, Patience is! Patience who asks Wants war, wants ...
(The Dry Salvages-presumably les trois sauvages-is a small group of rocks, with a beacon, off the N.E. coast of Cape ...
I LEGEND Long ago Apollo called to Aristæus, youngest of the shepherds, Saying, "I will make you keeper of my ...
Sweet Skepticism of the Heart -- That knows -- and does not know -- And tosses like a Fleet of ...
Are they clinging to their crosses, F. E. Smith, Where the Breton boat-fleet tosses, Are they, Smith? Do they, fasting, ...
Why is it that Poetry has never yet been subjected to that process of Dilution which has proved so advantageous ...
ADVERTISEMENT "The grand army of the Turks, (in 1715), under the Prime Vizier, to open to themselves a way into ...
The little white clouds are racing over the sky, And the fields are strewn with the gold of the flower ...
IN a faraway northern county, in the placid, pastoral region, Lives my farmer friend, the theme of my recitative, a ...
UP with the sun, the breeze arose, Across the talking corn she goes, And smooth she rustles far and wide ...
'Tis strange that in a land so strong So strong and bold in mighty youth, We have no poet's voice ...
From my window I can see, Where the sandhills dip, One far glimpse of open sea. Just a slender slip ...
This one is entering her teens, Ripe for sentimental scenes, Has picked a gangling unripe male, Sees herself in bridal ...
From my window I can see, Where the sandhills dip, One far glimpse of open sea. Just a slender slip ...
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