Things That Never Die (Charles Dickens Poem)
The pure, the bright, the beautiful that stirred our hearts in youth, The impulses to wordless prayer, The streams of ...
The pure, the bright, the beautiful that stirred our hearts in youth, The impulses to wordless prayer, The streams of ...
THROUGH my north window, in the wintry weather,-- My airy oriel on the river shore,-- I watch the sea-fowl as ...
And now it was evening. And Almitra the seeress said, "Blessed be this day and this place and your spirit ...
In the depth of my soul there is A wordless song - a song that lives In the seed of ...
HLF, August 8, 1918-August 22, 1997 "Bequeath us to no earthly shore until Is answered in the vortex of our ...
Waking from tender sleep, My neighbour's little child Put out his baby hand to me, Looked in my face, and ...
Marking time in pencil strokes across a virgin page and waiting for coincidence of heart-beat and second-hand, keying to the ...
The First Voice HE trilled a carol fresh and free, He laughed aloud for very glee: There came a breeze ...
Let faxes butter-curl on dusty shelves. Let junkmail build its castles in the hush of other people's halls. Let deadlines ...
I flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying. I said, "Wait on, wait on, while I ride ...
In a wilderness, in some orchestral swing through trees, with a wind playing all the high notes, and the prospect ...
At first I thought there was a superfine Persuasion in his face; but the free flow That filled it when ...
You ask why sometimes I say stop why sometimes I cry no while I shake with pleasure. What do I ...
(1) This is the sea, then, this great abeyance. How the sun's poultice draws on my inflammation. Electrifyingly-colored sherbets, scooped ...
I have heard about the civilized, the marriages run on talk, elegant and honest, rational. But you and I are ...
I I have loved England, dearly and deeply, Since that first morning, shining and pure, The white cliffs of Dover ...
A poem should be palpable and mute As a globed fruit, Dumb As old medallions to the thumb, Silent as ...
She wavered, stopped and turned, methought her eyes, The deep grey windows of her heart, were wet, Methought they softened ...
I. My face resembles your face less and less each day. When I was young no one mistook whose child ...
Dawn coming in over the fields of darkness takes me by surprise and I look up from my solitary road ...
All afternoon my father drove the country roads between Detroit and Lansing. What he was looking for I never learned, ...
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