The Muses Threnodie: Eighth Muse (Henry Adamson Poems)
What blooming banks, sweet Earn, or fairest Tay,Or Almond doth embrace! These many a dayWe haunted, where our pleasant pastoralsWe ...
What blooming banks, sweet Earn, or fairest Tay,Or Almond doth embrace! These many a dayWe haunted, where our pleasant pastoralsWe ...
I chose me a lovely garden,Beneath whose ivied wallA lake's blue wavelets murmurAs evening shadows fall,--A garden, whose leafy windowsFrame ...
AFTER THE BATTLE OF BADE, BENEATH THE CANOPY OF HEAVEN.MAHOMET (Speaks).LET the foeman sorrow o'er his dead,Ne'er will they return ...
I ponder how He died, despairing once.I've heard the cry subside in vacant skies,In clearings where no other was. Despair,Which, ...
How can my vineyard's charm be told,As it basks in the autumn haze?The Frost King's touch, so light and cold,Like ...
O For a garden of the olden time Where none but long-familiar flowers grow, Where pebbled paths go winding to and fro,And ...
Svch time as Tytan with his fiery beames In highest degree, made duskish Leo sweat Field-tilling Swains driue home their ...
It was one of those clear,sharp, mustless days That summer and man delight in. Never had ...
CEASE to call him sad and sober, Merriest of months, October! Patron of the bursting bins, Reveler in wayside inns, ...
They will find in this life who are grieved with its gladness No songs for the heart and no ...
Had Sacharissa lived when mortals made Choice of their deities, this sacred shadeHad held an alter to her power, that ...
Eternal autumn gilds the trees whereonan ardent twilight lengthens endlessly.In a warm strong wind the leaves whirl on and onwhile ...
Though thou art now a ruin bare and cold, Thou wert sometime the garden of a king. The birds have ...
Today I saw a woman plowing a furrow. Her hips arebroad, like mine, for love, and she goes about her ...
I could not run or playIn boyhood.In manhood I could only sip the cup,Not drink —For scarlet-fever left my heart ...
I own a solace shut within my heart, A garden full of many a quaint delight And warm with drowsy, ...
Playing her parchment moon Precosia comes along a watery path of laurels and crystal lights. The starless silence, fleeing from ...
Some man unworthy to be possessor Of old or new love, himself being false or weak, Thought his pain and ...
Though thou art now a ruin bare and cold, Thou wert sometime the garden of a king. The birds have ...
1 Against the stone breakwater, Only an ominous lapping, While the wind whines overhead, Coming down from the mountain, Whistling ...
I could not run or play In boyhood. In manhood I could only sip the cup, Not drink -- For ...
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