The Rhyme of Joyous Garde (Adam Lindsay Gordon Poems)
Through the lattice rushes the south wind, dense With fumes of the flowery frankincense From hawthorn blossoming thickly; And gold ...
Through the lattice rushes the south wind, dense With fumes of the flowery frankincense From hawthorn blossoming thickly; And gold ...
No cloud to dim the splendour of the dayWhich breaks o'er Naples and her lovely bay,And lights that brilliant sea ...
The enchanted island rose before me, drawnMore beautiful than words of mine may reach;It lay magnificent in a magic dawn,And ...
——— A manly race Of unsubmitting spirit, wise and brave; Who still through bleeding ages struggled hard To hold a ...
Some of my friends (for friends I must suppose All, who, not daring to appear my foes, Feign great ...
The silence of the white, bedewed way Was flanked still with the songs of amorous birds, Bruiting their joy for ...
Evening and morning, midnight and mid noon,For twice five lustres, this my cell hath been,My pleasure-house and prison.—I did swear,Kissing ...
You were dead, they said; In the churchyard had been laid,Many weeks ago, the dust whose youth was in ...
THE first time Sir Ewaine ahunting went,The light spring leaves were on the tree,And the Ladie Ellenor sat in her ...
Soft slept the beautiful autumnIn the heart, on the face of the Lough-Its heart, whose pulses were hush'd,Till you knew ...
Thou giv'st me flowers, thou giv'st me songs; bring backThe love that I have lost!WHAT wak'st thou, Spring? sweet voices ...
BROAD level fields, and hedges thick with trees, A calm still evening dropping fitful rain, And hawthorns loaded with their ...
Oh! I am weary of a world, where vice,Like the destroying canker-worm, doth windInto the bosom's core of those who ...
Wanton wenches do not bring For my hairs black colouring : For my locks, girls, let 'em be Grey or ...
It is December in Wicklow: Alders dripping, birches Inheriting the last light, The ash tree cold to look at. A ...
Languid, and sad, and slow, from day to day I journey on, yet pensive turn to view (Where the rich ...
Languid, and sad, and slow, from day to day I journey on, yet pensive turn to view (Where the rich ...
"Had we never loved so kindly, Had we never loved so blindly, Never met or never parted, We had ne'er ...
I The girl in the room beneath Before going to bed Strums on a mandolin The three simple tunes she ...
For God has given us a language of monosyllables to prevent our clipping. For a toad enjoys a finer prospect ...
'Tis hard to say, if greater Want of Skill Appear in Writing or in Judging ill, But, of the two, ...
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