The Returned Acadian (John Frederic Herbin Poems)
Along my father's dykes I roam again,Among the willows by the river-side.These miles of green I know from hill to ...
Along my father's dykes I roam again,Among the willows by the river-side.These miles of green I know from hill to ...
But late I saw the mower's marching sweepLay bare and dry from upland to the tideThe whole green dyke. Even ...
Oh the dear summer evening! How the air is mellow with the delicate breath of flowers and wafts of hay ...
I.She stood at Greenwich, motionless amid The ever-shifting crowd of passengers.I marked a big tear quivering on the lid Of ...
Dear Jock, - Like some aul' cairter's mear I'm foonert i' the feet,An' oxter-staffs are feckless things fan a' the ...
In his village greyAt foot of the dykes, that encompass himWith weary weaving of curves and linesToward the sea outstretching ...
Summers and summers have come, and gone with the flight of the swallow; Sunshine and thunder have been, storm, and ...
In Memory Of. In Fondest Recollection Of. In Loving Memory Of. In Fond Remembrance. Died in October. Died at Sea. ...
In answer to those who have said that English Poetsgive no personal love to their country.ENGLAND, my country, austere in ...
I know a beach road, A road where I would go,It runs up northward From Cooden Bay to Hoe;And there, ...
The sea's a place for sailormen in fair or stormy weather;'Round the world and back again they're all good mates ...
Shoulders of upland brown laid dark to the sunset's bosom, Living amber of wheat, and copper of new-ploughed ...
No use frettin' when the rain comes down,No use grievin' when the gray clouds frown,No use sighin' when the wind ...
SPIK'D reed and golden Iris bending over Low-running streams, and that small pleading flower We none of us forget, with ...
I hang limp on the Creator's penLike a large drop of lilac gloss-paint.Underneath are dykes' secrets; the airFrom the railways ...
WHEN the sea sobs by lonely shores, Bleak shores, with shattered boulders strown,When the dark wind my soul implores ...
I How fresh the Dartle's little waves that day! A steely silver, underlined with blue, And flashing where the round ...
Ah, well! but the case seems hopeless, and the pen might write in vain; The people gabble of old things ...
Good Father!. 'Twas an eve in middle June, And war was waged anew By great Napoleon, who for years had ...
O A' ye pious godly flocks, Weel fed on pastures orthodox, Wha now will keep you frae the fox, Or ...
O purblind race of miserable men, How many among us at this very hour Do forge a life-long trouble for ...
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