Poulain The Prisoner (Augusta Davies Webster Poems)
I.BEYOND his silent vault green springs went by, The river flashed along its open way, Blithe swallows flitted ...
I.BEYOND his silent vault green springs went by, The river flashed along its open way, Blithe swallows flitted ...
Let there be light. Light to the darkened mindBear, like the sun, the world's wide circle round,Bright messengers ...
Old pioneers, how fare your souls to-day? They seem to be Imminent about this pastoral way, This sunny lea, The ...
The ego of the human race, The sordid love of self, We see it in life's hurried ...
The dignity of Camperdown Is not to be denied,Where Leura looks upon the town And that lush countrysideAnd comfortable, stout ...
This is the land that we love; here our fathers found refuge,Here are the grooves of their plows and the ...
They spoke it bravely, grimly, in their darkest hours of doubt;They spoke it when their hope was low and when ...
YE who received me, when your hearts were sore, With double welcome, since I came in lieu Of one whose ...
PEACE in her chamber, wheresoe'erIt be, a holy place:The thought still brings my soul such graceAs morning meadows wear.Whether it ...
the dream of the white bird flying offers a freedom as tasty as nectar how our lips purse to the ...
When was the beginning, in the fertilising, in the flower, or was it deeper, in the earth beneath? No end ...
We were born of tea, our mum could drink fourteen cups a day, an awesome feat to try to rationalise, ...
Our lives were founded on this rock, this Jessie of Gibraltar Whose unfailing love endured beyond her ample nursing, And ...
Growing up, I propose, is like wearing a dead man's clothes. Death has a way of levelling the ground. I ...
A Fragment of a Turkish Tale The tale which these disjointed fragments present, is founded upon circumstances now less common ...
Never any more, While I live, Need I hope to see his face As before. Once his love grown chill, ...
Vanity, saith the preacher, vanity! Draw round my bed: is Anselm keeping back? Nephews -- sons mine -- ah God, ...
All that I owe the fellows of the grave And all the dead bequeathed from pale estates Lies in the ...
As Rochefoucauld his maxims drew From nature, I believe 'em true: They argue no corrupted mind In him; the fault ...
Sublime was the warning that liberty spoke, And grand was the moment when Spaniards awoke Into life and revenge from ...
All yesterday it poured, and all night long I could not sleep; the rain unceasing beat Upon the shingled roof ...
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