Victory (C S Lewis Poems)
Roland is dead, Cuchulain's crest is low,The battered war-rear wastes and turns to rust,And Helen's eyes and Iseult's lips are ...
Roland is dead, Cuchulain's crest is low,The battered war-rear wastes and turns to rust,And Helen's eyes and Iseult's lips are ...
As the fierce faun, on the cypress-bearded cape,Desires the sea-girl, seen with billow-driftedHair the color of kelp and shadowy-riftedVulva that ...
So when he turned Evangelist, see what came,-Writ on his page were stories, with sweet tearsBaptized by all the yearnings ...
O Goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear, And pardon that thy secrets should be ...
Velvet soft the night-star glowed Over the untrodden road, Through the giant glades of yew ...
I The cloud my bed is tinged with blood and foam. The vault yet blazes with the sun Writhing above ...
Velvet soft the night-star glowed Over the untrodden road, Through the giant glades of yew ...
I The cloud my bed is tinged with blood and foam. The vault yet blazes with the sun Writhing above ...
When she came out, that white little Russian dancer, With her bright hair, and her eyes, so young, so young, ...
How strange to greet, this frosty morn, In graceful counterfeit of flower, These children of the meadows, born Of sunshine ...
I. He was a Grecian lad, who coming home With pulpy figs and wine from Sicily Stood at his galley's ...
I have no store Of gryphon-guarded gold; Now, as before, Bare is the shepherd's fold. Rubies nor pearls Have I ...
1 A CALIFORNIA song! A prophecy and indirection-a thought impalpable, to breathe, as air; A chorus of dryads, fading, departing-or ...
SHALL I strew on thee rose or rue or laurel, Brother, on this that was the veil of thee? Or ...
Yet one Song more! one high and solemn strain Ere PAEAN! on thy temple's ruined wall I hang the silent ...
When meadows are grey with the morn In the dusk of the woods it is night: The oak and the ...
Ye hooded witches, baleful shapes that moan, Quench your fantastic lanterns and be still; For now the moon through heaven ...
Est brevitate opus, ut currat sententia, neu se Impediat verbis lassas onerantibus aures: Et sermone opus est modo tristi, saepe ...
The moon comes up o'er the deeps of the woods, And the long, low dingles that hide in the hills, ...
Oh, the charm of idle dreaming Where the dappled shadows dance, All the leafy aisles are teeming With the lure ...
Through thick Arcadian woods a hunter went, Following the beasts upon a fresh spring day; But since his horn-tipped bow ...
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