The Dying Philosopher (Lydia Howard Huntley Sigourney Poems)
I have crept forth to die among the trees.They have sweet voices that I love to hear,Sweet, lute-like voices. They ...
I have crept forth to die among the trees.They have sweet voices that I love to hear,Sweet, lute-like voices. They ...
A LOVER whom duty called over the wave,With himself communed: "Will my love be trueIf left to herself? Had I ...
I knew a flower whose leaves were meant to bloomTill Death should snatch it to adorn the tomb,Now, blanching 'neath ...
And canst thou, Mother, for a moment thinkThat we, thy children, when old age shall shedIts blanching honours on thy ...
Lucilla, wedded to Lucretius, foundHer master cold; for when the morning flushOf passion and the first embrace had died Between ...
In a cottage on a moor Famine's feeble children cried;The frost knocked sharply at the door, And hunger ...
LEAWOOD HALL,A Chistmas Tale. IN a cottage on a moor Famine's feeble children cried;The frost knocked sharply at the ...
BLUE, the wreaths of smoke, like drooping bannersFrom the flaming battlements of sunsetHung suspended; and within his whareHipe, last of ...
July 6: 1535The midnight moaning streamDraws down its glassy surface through the bridgeThat o'er the current casts a tower'd ridge,Dark ...
PROMETHEUS (alone) O holy Aether, and swift-winged Winds, And River-wells, and laughter innumerous ...
Old tales of valour fire our bloodBut this, the bravest deed I knowIs written of our modern times,No myth of ...
"I WILL rise, I will go from the places that are dark with passion and pain, ...
Tell me not here, it needs not saying, What tune the enchantress playsIn aftermaths of soft September Or under blanching ...
Tell me not here, it needs not saying, What tune the enchantress plays In aftermaths of soft September Or under ...
I tell you hopeless grief is passionless, That only men incredulous of despair, Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air ...
THE groundflame of the crocus breaks the mould, Fair Spring slides hither o'er the Southern sea, Wavers on her thin ...
Lucilla, wedded to Lucretius, found Her master cold; for when the morning flush Of passion and the first embrace had ...
At break of day the College Portress came: She brought us Academic silks, in hue The lilac, with a silken ...
Darkness: the rain sluiced down; the mire was deep; It was past twelve on a mid-winter night, When peaceful folk ...
Through darkness curves a spume of falling flares That flood the field with shallow, blanching light. The huddled sentry stares ...
I, WHOM Apollo sometime visited, Or feigned to visit, now, my day being done, Do slumber wholly; nor shall know ...
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