[Month of] May (Hilaire Belloc Poems)
This is the laughing-eyed amongst them all:My lady's month. A season of young things.She rules the light with harmony, and bringsThe ...
This is the laughing-eyed amongst them all:My lady's month. A season of young things.She rules the light with harmony, and bringsThe ...
My own dear country--thy remembrance comesLike softly--flowing music on my heart;With thy green sunny hills, and happy homes,And cots rose--bowered, ...
IOh, for the power to call to aid, of mineOwn humble Muse, the famed and sacred nine.Then might she fitly ...
Heroes of elder days! untaught to yield,Who bled for Spain on many an ancient field;Ye, that around the oaken cross ...
…….."This is to be a mortal,And seek the things beyond mortality!" ~ Manfred.Thy voice prevails — dear friend, my gentle ...
Hast thou a scene that is not spreadWith records of thy glory fled?A monument that doth not tellThe tale of ...
IAll valor died not on the plains of Troy.Awake, my Muse, awake! be thine the joyTo sing of deeds as ...
Come! rouse ye brothers, rouse! a peal now breaks From lowest island to our gallant lakes: 'Tis summoning you, who ...
From Hugo's 'Feuilles d'Automne'.I love the evenings, passionless and fair, I love the evens,Whether old manor-fronts their ray with golden ...
There are some that long for a limpid lake by a blue Italian shore, Or a palm-grove out where the ...
I.The sky has turned its heart away,The earth its sorrow found;The daisies turn from childhood's play,And creep into the ground.The ...
Here by the ample river's argent sweep,Bosomed in tilth and vintage to her walls,A tower-crowned Cybele in armoured sleepThe city ...
The sun is dying; space and room. Serenity, vast sense of rest, Lie bosomed in the orange west Of Orient ...
I love the evenings, passionless and fair, I love the evens, Whether old manor-fronts their ray with golden fulgence leavens, ...
Portion of this yew Is a man my grandsire knew, Bosomed here at its foot: This branch may be his ...
Good-by, proud world, I'm going home, Thou'rt not my friend, and I'm not thine; Long through thy weary crowds I ...
BOOK FIRST. I. ALL valor died not on the plains of Troy. Awake, my Muse, awake! be thine the joy ...
(Time, Morning. Scene, the Shore.) Once more to daily toil--once more to wear The weeds of infamy--from every joy The ...
Now Morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl, When Adam waked, so ...
Hence, loathed Melancholy, ............Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born In Stygian cave forlorn ............'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights ...
How the Wings Were Made From many morning-glories That in an hour will fade, From many ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories