My Heart (Effie Afton Poems)
List I to the hurried beatings Of my heart; How its quickened, loud repeatings ...
List I to the hurried beatings Of my heart; How its quickened, loud repeatings ...
List I to the hurried beatings Of my heart; How its quickened, loud repeatings ...
"Through thin, gray, moving clouds a summer sun Lies like dull silver on the rippled stream. Now gusts alarm, now ...
Think of me, dearest! when the Western star Sheds o'er the soft blue heav'n its lovely light;For know, that ...
To those who have few ties to bind the soulTo earth, it must be sweet to steal awayGently, from life ...
She knelt in pray'r before th' eternal throneOf the Most High,—her streaming eyes uprais'd,—Her white hands clasp'd convulsively,—her cheek,With the ...
There is a low and lonely place of rest,Upon whose couch the worn and wearied frameReposes in forgetfulness,—and there,The streaming ...
Up attic, Lucas Harrison, God rest his frugal bones, once kept a tidy account by knifecut of some long-gone harvest. ...
You open to me a little, then grow afraid and close again, a small boy fearing to be hurt, a ...
(i) i believed in flower-power (the triumph of the meek) the thought that what a wind could bend was not ...
(a) they seek to celebrate the word not to bring their knives out on a poem dissecting it to find ...
The number of my hairs the days of my life all desires known the beatings of my heart God sees ...
We may not carry scars from beatings from proclaiming the good news of Christ Unlike Paul many journey onward only ...
Notus in fratres animi paterni. Hor. Carm. lib.II.2. A bless?d lot hath he, who having passed His youth and early ...
Poetry, I found you where at last they chained and bound you; with devices all around you to torture and ...
From noiseful arms, and acts of prowess done In tournament or tilt, Sir Percivale, Whom Arthur and his knighthood called ...
ROSALIND, HELEN, and her Child. SCENE. The Shore of the Lake of Como. HELEN Come hither, my sweet Rosalind. 'T ...
I AM the tender voice calling "Away," Whispering between the beatings of the heart, And inaccessible in dewy eyes I ...
NOT her own sorrow only that hath place Upon yon gentle face. Too slight have been her childhood's years to ...
Down the close, darkening lanes they sang their way To the siding-shed, And lined the train with faces grimly gay. ...
To-day the woods are trembling through and through With shimmering forms, that flash before my view, Then melt in green ...
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