The Fourth Shepherd (Joyce Kilmer Poem)
(For Thomas Walsh) I On nights like this the huddled sheep Are like white clouds upon the grass, And merry ...
(For Thomas Walsh) I On nights like this the huddled sheep Are like white clouds upon the grass, And merry ...
For an entire year she dressed in all the shades Of ash - the gray of old paper; the deeper, ...
The moon, a day before full, hung suspended low to the horizon above the tree line hauntingly, disquiet settled on ...
At Madge, ye hoyden, gossips scofft, Ffor that a romping wench was shee-- "Now marke this rede," they bade her ...
In seventeen hundred, a much hated sultan visited us twice, finally dying of headaches in the south harbor. Ever since, ...
WOE is me to tell it thee, Winter winds in Arcady! Scattered is thy flock and fled From the glades ...
Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundown we drink it at noon in the morning we drink it ...
How sweet to be thus nestling deep in boughs, Upon an ashen stoven pillowing me; Faintly are heard the ploughmen ...
Now darkness ponds upon the violet hills; cicadas sing; the tall elms gently sway; and night bends near, a deepening ...
Halls grew darker and somehow faded. Grates of windows drowned in black. Every knight, every beautiful lady Knew the tiding: ...
Some day I shall rise and leave my friends And seek you again through the world's far ends, You whom ...
Silver will lie where she lies sun-out, whatever turning the world does, longeared in her ashen, earless, floating world: indifferent ...
When I attain to utter forth in verse Some inward thought, my soul throbs audibly Along my pulses, yearning to ...
I lift my heavy heart up solemnly, As once Electra her sepulchral urn, And, looking in thine eyes, I overturn ...
Bury thy sorrows, and they shall rise As souls to the immortal skies, And there look down like mothers' eyes. ...
O if it's true that in the night, When rest the living in their havens And liquid rays of lunar ...
Awake, of Muse, the echoes of a day Long past, the ghosts of mem'ries manifold -- Youth's memories that once ...
Athwart the harbor lingers yet The ashen gleam of breaking day, And where the guardian cliffs are set The noiseless ...
Life, come to me in no pale guise and ashen, I care not for thee in such placid fashion! I ...
He rides away with sword and spur, Garbed in his warlike blazonry, With gallant glance and smile for her Upon ...
After two sittings, now our Lady State To end her picture does the third time wait. But ere thou fall'st ...
The day comes slowly in the railyard behind the ice factory. It broods on one cinder after another until each ...
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