An Hymn (James Avis Bartley Poems)
To him whose soul is locked and bolted fast, By lust and guilt against the entrance there,Of heavenly light; whose soul ...
To him whose soul is locked and bolted fast, By lust and guilt against the entrance there,Of heavenly light; whose soul ...
Sleep is a spirit, who beside us sits, Or through our frames like some dim glamour flits; From out her form a ...
HERE you should lie, ye Kings of eld,Barbarossa, Boabdil,And Czar Lazar and Charlemagne,Arthur, Gaelic Finn-Here where themuffling Spanish mossesForests with ...
O BOON and curse in one - this ceaseless needOf looking still behind us and before!Gift to the soul of ...
WHILE young Christmas, long ago,Tossed about his balls of snow,Skated on the frozen mere,Closely wrapped in wintry gear,Or in firelight's ...
They weave a slow andante as in sleep, Scaled yellow, swampy black, plague-spotted white; With blue and lidless eyes at ...
ON Forty First Street near Eighth Avenue a frame house wobbles. If houses went on crutches this house would be ...
PENCILS telling where the wind comes from open a story. Pencils telling where the wind goes end a story. These ...
Across the millstream below the bridge Seven blue swallows divide the air In shapes invisible and evanescent, Kaleidoscopic beyond the ...
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