By Flood and Field 2 (Adam Lindsay Gordon Poems)
They have saddled a hundred milk-white steeds,They have bridled a hundred black.-Old Ballad.'He turned in his saddle, now follow who ...
They have saddled a hundred milk-white steeds,They have bridled a hundred black.-Old Ballad.'He turned in his saddle, now follow who ...
1.SWEET, sacred hill ! on whose fair browMy Saviour sate, shall I allow Language to love,And idolize some shade, or grove,Neglecting ...
High up in the sky there, now, you know,In this May twilight, our cottage is asleep,Tenantless, and no creature there ...
Little did I dream, England, that you bore meUnder the Cotswold Rills beside the water meadowsTo do you dreadful service, ...
One comes across the strangest things in walks,Fragment of Abbey tithe barns fixed in modern,With Dutch-sort houses, where the water ...
Larches are most fitting small red hillsThat rise like swollen antheaps likeablyAnd modest before big things like near MalvernOr Cotswold's ...
Sometimes the ghosts forgotten goAlong the hill-top way,And with long scythes of silver mowMeadows of moonlit hay,Until the cocks of ...
On Cotswold edge there is a field and thatGrows thick with corn and speedwell and the matOf thistles, of the ...
Our flood's-queen Thames for ships and swans is crown'd,And stately Severn for her shore is prais'd,The crystal Trent for fords ...
One evening, by some hearth, I know not when,A stranger to my song shall come to readWhat faring was my ...
Lying flat on my belly shivering in clutch frost,There was time to watch the stars, we had dug in;Looking eastward ...
Autumn that name of creeper falling and tea-time loving,Was once for me the thought of High Cotswold noon-air,And the earth ...
There are mummers yet on Cotswold,Though Will Squele he lies low,And men sow wheat on headlandsThat other men see grow.Eyes ...
Fytte IBy Wood and Wold"Beneath the greenwood bough." — W. Scott.Lightly the breath of the spring wind blows, Though ...
Tom Hill was in the saddle,One bright November morn,The echoing glades of Guiting WoodWere ringing with his horn.The diamonds of ...
Did I ever tell you, my dears, the wayThat the birds of Cisseter--"Cisseter!" eh?Well "Ciren-cester"--one OUGHT to say,From "Castra," or ...
Let others tell of far away, Of peoples strange and cities gay, Of mighty hills and rushing streams, More fair ...
How good to come again by gay red coachThrough mile on mile of country white with snow,Past grey-green hangars where ...
I'm homesick for my hills again -My hills again!To see above the Severn plain,Unscabbarded against the sky,The blue high blade ...
Once, after long-drawn revel at The Mermaid, He to the overbearing Boanerges Jonson, uttered (if half of it were liquor, ...
Our flood's-queen Thames for ships and swans is crown'd, And stately Severn for her shore is prais'd, The crystal Trent ...
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