The Wanderer: A Vision: Canto I (Richard Savage Poems)
Fain would my verse, Tyrconnel, boast thy name,Brownlow, at once my subject and my fame!Oh! could that spirit, which thy ...
Fain would my verse, Tyrconnel, boast thy name,Brownlow, at once my subject and my fame!Oh! could that spirit, which thy ...
You say, as one who shapes a life,That you will never be a wife,And, laughing lightly, ask my aidTo paint ...
No longer hoary winter reigns,No longer binds the streams in chains,Or heaps with snow the meads;Array'd with robe of rainbow-dye,At ...
I have seen thy crystal watersMirror Beauty's sportive daughters;Seen the village maiden thereLave her brow and braid her hair—Wade, till ...
The little dove, with heart of sadness, In silent pain sighs night and day,What now can wake that heart to gladness? His ...
Amherst never had a witchO Coos or of GraftonBut once upon a timeThere were three old women.One wore a small ...
The Dead Sea, and, beyond, the greyish, brokenLine of the hills. Noon. Mealtime. Deft of hand,He bathes his mare, then ...
The boys in striped knitwaremake the waves sprout--is it a storm?Everything coos and the bathing girlconsults the mirror of the ...
Long ago and long ago, And long ago still, There dwelt three merry maidens Upon a distant hill. One was ...
What shall I be?—I will be a knightWalled up in armour black,With a sword of sharpness, a hammer of might.And ...
Out of the heart of the city begottenOf the labour of men and their manifold hands,Whose souls, that were sprung ...
The miller by the shore am I, A man o' despert sense;I've fotty different soorts o' ways O' ...
Come, dear old friend, and with us twain To calm Digentian groves repair;The turtle coos his sweet refrain And posies ...
It's all very well to dream of a dove that saves, Picasso's or ...
'My stead's far end o' neeawheer,Neea lass wud care to settle there:Afore she died, my mother said,"It's time, dear lad, ...
At Waterloo, and up at early dawn. Before the labourers come, those saucy thieves, The larks, a meal have stolen ...
IITo say I love thee, is but uttering A worn-out phrase. The opal-breasted dove Coos the same story to his ...
Amherst never had a witch O Coos or of Grafton But once upon a time There were three old women. ...
Beyond the pale of memory, In some mysterious dusky grove; A place of shadows utterly, Where never coos the turtle-dove, ...
As loving hind that (hartless) wants her deer, Scuds through the woods and fern with hark'ning ear, Perplext, in every ...
The lily's withered chalice falls Around its rod of dusty gold, And from the beech-trees on the wold The last ...
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