Decay (John Clare Poems)
O Poesy is on the wane, For Fancy's visions all unfitting;I hardly know her face again, Nature herself seems on the flitting.The ...
O Poesy is on the wane, For Fancy's visions all unfitting;I hardly know her face again, Nature herself seems on the flitting.The ...
(A Song of Old Ballads)WHEN I was a young girl, all in a green arbor, When I was a young girl ...
When skies are blue and days are bright A kitchen-garden's my delight, Set round with rows of decent box And blowsy girls of ...
What's the railroad to me?I never go to seeWhere it ends.It fills a few hollows,And makes banks for the swallows,It ...
When stars come gleaming one by one, And fold and farm are still,O I go out to keep the ...
Here's the likeness of the Betsy: sometime in the eighteen thirtiesThey built her in Newcastle where the coaly dust and ...
A three-skysail yarder with her hatches battened down,And the grey sky up above her, and the Mersey's muddy brownA-rippling at ...
Lovely is the white town, and smiling it liesWith little green gardens underneath the blue skies,Days so full of sunshine, ...
I'd tramped the whole day long on the weary roads ashore,I was tired as a dog, and my heart was ...
ALL shimmering in the morning shine And diamonded with dew, And quivering in the scented wind That thrills its green ...
A bullet through his heart at dawn. On the table a letter signed with a woman's name. A wind that ...
What's the railroad to me? I never go to see Where it ends. It fills a few hollows, And makes ...
For oh, when the war will be over We'll go and we'll look for our dead; We'll go when the ...
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