To Mrs. Marissal (Anna Laetitia Aikin Barbauld Poems)
Whither, whither, wearied dove,Wilt thou fly to seek thy rest?Beat with many a heavy storm,Where repose thy tender breast?Hither, hither, ...
Whither, whither, wearied dove,Wilt thou fly to seek thy rest?Beat with many a heavy storm,Where repose thy tender breast?Hither, hither, ...
XCIIThe crocus opened slowly yesterday, And in its sod the grass began to stir, The softening air was humming to ...
IFleck of sky you are,Dropped through branches dark,O my little one, mine!Promise of the star,Outpour of the lark;Beam and song ...
Part First Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut the door. A storm was rising, heavy gusts of wind Swirled through the trees, ...
Have you heard of one Humpty Dumpty How he fell with a roll and a rumble And curled up like ...
When will you ever, Peace, wild wooddove, shy wings shut, Your round me roaming end, and under be my boughs? ...
I Here's the mould of a musical bird long passed from light, Which over the earth before man came was ...
OH prophetic bird so bright, Blossom-songster, cuckoo bight! In the fairest time of year, Dearest bird, oh! deign to hear ...
The cousins together standing in the river both knowing their part in the subtle ballet Yet John unable not wanting ...
I am alone on my porch, in the rain. Nightfall is closing in. Now, the island is lonely. The world ...
Out of the woods by the creek cometh a calling for Peter, And from the orchard a voice echoes and ...
It's when the birds go piping and the daylight slowly breaks, That, clamoring for his dinner, our precious baby wakes; ...
Not under foreign skies Nor under foreign wings protected - I shared all this with my own people There, where ...
Oft upon the twilight plain, Circled with thy shadowy train, While the dove at distance coo'd, Have I met thee, ...
This day winding down now At God speeded summer's end In the torrent salmon sun, In my seashaken house On ...
for Moremi, 1963 Earth will not share the rafter's envy; dung floors Break, not the gecko's slight skin, but its ...
Though Virtue hurt you Vice is nice; Aye, Parson says it's wrong, Yet for my pleasing I'll suffice With Women, ...
'Tis strange that in a land so strong So strong and bold in mighty youth, We have no poet's voice ...
Love is sharper than stones or sticks; Lone as the sea, and deeper blue; Loud in the night as a ...
'Twas in the year of 1746, on a fine summer afternoon, When trees and flowers were in full bloom, That ...
Under yonder beech-tree single on the green-sward, Couched with her arms behind her golden head, Knees and tresses folded to ...
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