Pan In The Park (Burnett A. Ward Poems)
I've never been to Thessaly, and Ida's vales may never seeWhere gods have doffed divinity for wanton love and play;But ...
I've never been to Thessaly, and Ida's vales may never seeWhere gods have doffed divinity for wanton love and play;But ...
II FEAR that Puck is dead it is so longSince men last saw him; dead with all the restOf that ...
See! the pale autumn dawnIs faint, upon the lawn That lies in powdered white Of hoar-frost dightAnd now ...
I'Tis a joyous day in June,(Crimson was the midnight moon)And the lily clothed in whiteOpes her eye to dancing light,As ...
O gentlest love, I have not playedFor you upon the lute of jade;Nor on that fabulous bassoonWrought from the horns ...
What animal you are or whether you are an animal, I am too dumb to tell. Some moments, I feel ...
Oh, the winds are out to-night, Riders of the storm let loose:Listen to the singing reeds Put to an unwonted ...
"TO stand within a gently gliding boat, Urged by a noiseless paddle at the stern, Whipping the crystal mirror of ...
Like as a dryad, from her native bole Coming at dusk, when the dim stars emerge, To a slow river ...
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some ...
I Saw old Autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like Silence, listening To silence, for no lonely bird would ...
A place of dryad and hamadryad, there are eyes here by the million. Many divert to watch me. Threatened, they ...
I. He was a Grecian lad, who coming home With pulpy figs and wine from Sicily Stood at his galley's ...
This English Thames is holier far than Rome, Those harebells like a sudden flush of sea Breaking across the woodland, ...
Ye in the age gone by, Who ruled the world--a world how lovely then!-- And guided still the steps of ...
Hail to thee, mountain beloved, with thy glittering purple-dyed summit! Hail to thee also, fair sun, looking so lovingly on! ...
Like as a dryad, from her native bole Coming at dusk, when the dim stars emerge, To a slow river ...
On my desk, a set of labels or a synopsis of leeks, blanched by the sun and trailing their roots ...
They have made for Leonora this low dwelling in the ground, And with cedar they have woven the four walls ...
Here is a voice that soundeth low and far And lyricvoice of wind among the pines, Where the untroubled, glimmering ...
No more of talk where God or Angel guest With Man, as with his friend, familiar us'd, To sit indulgent, ...
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