Aforetime (Thomas Sturge Moore Poems)
Dear exile from the hurrying crowd,At work I muse to you aloud;Thought on my anvil softens, glows,And I forget our ...
Dear exile from the hurrying crowd,At work I muse to you aloud;Thought on my anvil softens, glows,And I forget our ...
FOUR times the sun had risen and set; and now on the fifth dayCheerily called the cock to the sleeping ...
A writer wrote of the hearts of men, and he followed their tracks afar;For his was a spirit that forced ...
We sat within the farm-house old, Whose windows, looking o'er the bay, Gave to the sea-breeze damp and cold, An easy entrance, night ...
We, too, have autumns, when our leaves Drop loosely through the dampened air,When all our good seems bound in sheaves, And we ...
FROM this quaint cabin window I can seeThe strange, vague line of ghostly drift-wood, thoughNo ray of silver moon or ...
ALONE, beneath the darkened sky,With saddened heart and unstrung lyre,I heap the spoils of years gone by,And leave them with ...
WHEN the tide came surging inTo the beach it boreDrift-wood and brown weeds -These - and nothing more!As the stranded ...
Our drift-wood fire burns drowsily, The fog hangs low afar,A thousand sea-birds fearlessly Hover ...
Across the lonely beach we flit, One little sandpiper and I, And fast I gather, but ...
Searching my heart for its true sorrow,This is the thing I find to be:That I am weary of words and ...
DEVEREUX FARM, NEAR MARBLEHEAD. We sat within the farm-house old, Whose windows, looking o'er the bay, Gave to the sea-breeze ...
I BIRTHDAY VERSES Dear Aldrich, now November's mellow days Have brought another Festa round to you, You can't refuse a ...
To the Memory of the Household It Describes This Poem is Dedicated by the Author "As the Spirit of Darkness ...
Before my drift-wood fire I sit, And see, with every waif I burn, Old dreams and fancies coloring it, And ...
I Flat as a drum-head stretch the haggard snows; The mighty skies are palisades of light; The stars are blurred; ...
Searching my heart for its true sorrow, This is the thing I find to be: That I am weary of ...
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