Hydon Hill (Chauncey Hare Townsend Poems)
Now on the summit rapt I stand,The centre of the circling land.See, around, above, below,What beauties blaze, what colors glow!Blending, ...
Now on the summit rapt I stand,The centre of the circling land.See, around, above, below,What beauties blaze, what colors glow!Blending, ...
Alice grown lazy, mammoth but not fat,Declines upon her lost and twilight age;Above in the dozing leaves the grinning catQuivers ...
When yesterday I went to see friends - (Watching their patient faces in a rowI want to give each boy ...
"The night-flood rakes upon the stony shore; Along the rugged cliffs and chalky caves ...
The dark and pillowy cloud, the sallow trees, Seem o'er the ruins of the year to mourn;And, cold and ...
We must admire her perfect aim,this huntress of the winter airwhose level weapon needs no sight,if it were not that ...
Dry hard chalkyseemed to be the design of the country.There we brought ourlaws, systemsof weight, of currency, of measure.The world ...
A WIT, transported with Inditing, Unpay'd, unprais'd, yet ever Writing; Who, for all Fights and Fav'rite Friends, Had Poems at ...
I stayed the night for shelter at a farm Behind the mountains, with a mother and son, Two old-believers. They ...
Sent off to boarding school at twelve, with a pair of oxfords, a pair of patents, my sterling silver christening ...
Now Night came down, and rose full soon That patroness of rogues, the Moon; Beneath whose kind protecting ray, Wolves, ...
The night-flood rakes upon the stony shore; Along the rugged cliffs and chalky caves Mourns the hoarse Ocean, seeming to ...
The dark and pillowy cloud, the sallow trees, Seem o'er the ruins of the year to mourn; And, cold and ...
Scene, on the Cliffs to the Eastward of the Town of Brighthelmstone in Sussex. Time, a Morning in November, 1792. ...
Scene, on an Eminence on one of those Downs, which afford to the South a view of the Sea; to ...
SWIFT o'er the bounding deep the VESSEL glides, Its streamers flutt'ring in the summer gales, The lofty mast the breezy ...
DAME DOWSON, was a granny grey, Who, three score years and ten, Had pass'd her busy hours away, In talking ...
Upon a lonely desart Beach Where the white foam was scatter'd, A little shed uprear'd its head Though lofty Barks ...
A nobler king had never breath- I say it now, and said it then. Who weds with such is wed ...
America, from a grain of maize you grew to crown with spacious lands the ocean foam. A grain of maize ...
When I eat crab, slide the rosy rubbery claw across my tongue I think of my mother. She'd drive down ...
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