The Hermitage (John Wilson Poems)
Stranger! this lonely glen in ancient timesWas named the glen of blood; nor Christian feetBy night or day, from these ...
Stranger! this lonely glen in ancient timesWas named the glen of blood; nor Christian feetBy night or day, from these ...
I love to spend the twilight hour When stars their radiance o'er me cast, With that benign mysterious power Which calls up mem'ries ...
In the silence of my heart, I will spend an hour with thee, When my love shall rend apart All the veil of ...
In a vineyard where grape-laden boughs To the trellised wall heavily cling,Where the voice of the turtle is heard, And the song ...
Rev. A. Corrasco of Madrid, and Professor C. Pronier of Geneva, members of the Evangelical Alliance, lost with the Vilie ...
ON THE RECEIPT OF A FAMILIAR POEM To me, like hauntings of a vagrant breath From some far forest which I once ...
Cheeriest of maidens, who, with light of bliss That waneth never in thy gladsome eye, Passest all lightly earth's sad sorrows by, Scarce ...
1.FROM thine, as then, the healing virtue goesInto our hearts—that is the Father's plan.From heart to heart it sinks, it ...
The hour when Fancy, and Remembrance, weaveTheir fairest tissue of enchanted dreams. Twilight! still season of deep communings,And holiest hopes, ...
It is a year dear one, since you afar Went out beyond my yearning mortal sight A wondrous year! perchance ...
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