Sonnet LXIII: The Gossamer (Charlotte Smith Poems)
O'er faded heath-flowers spun, or thorny furze, The filmy Gossamer is lightly spread;Waving in every sighing air that stirs, ...
O'er faded heath-flowers spun, or thorny furze, The filmy Gossamer is lightly spread;Waving in every sighing air that stirs, ...
Ere we can think of time—the moment's past—And straight another since that thought began:So swift each instant mingles with the ...
Sadly, O sage, thine images are told.Think we of cornfields, where again there fallAt Memory's touch, that is so magical,All ...
I STAND in old Earth's presence; over allThe warm, pervading sunshine seems to printLife and the Present; and there is ...
In Mystic Argot often Confounded with FarragoIf aught that stumbles in my speech Or stutters in my pen,Or, claiming ...
A drifting, April, twilight sky, A wind which blew the puddles dry, And slapped the river into waves That ran ...
SAY, which Immortal Merits the highest reward? With none contend I, But I will give it To the aye-changing, Ever-moving ...
Behold me, in my chiffon, gauze, and tinsel, Flitting out of the shadow into the spotlight, And into the shadow ...
I MET a Seer, Passing the hues and objects of the world, The fields of art and learning, pleasure, sense, ...
Two nights I have dreamed of you Once as an adolescent, evanescent Yet tangible still to the spirit's touch, Then ...
He it is, the innermost one, who awakens my being with his deep hidden touches. He it is who puts ...
O'er faded heath-flowers spun, or thorny furze, The filmy Gossamer is lightly spread; Waving in every sighing air that stirs, ...
Woman's faith, and woman's trust - Write the characters in the dust; Stamp them on the running stream, Print them ...
"We are false and evanescent, and aware of our deceit, From the straw that is our vitals to the clay ...
Fear, like a living fire that only death Might one day cool, had now in Avon's eyes Been witness for ...
A vanished house that for an hour I knew By some forgotten chance when I was young Had once a ...
Grey dawn on the sand-hills -- the night wind has drifted All night from the rollers a scent of the ...
Across the millstream below the bridge Seven blue swallows divide the air In shapes invisible and evanescent, Kaleidoscopic beyond the ...
So here the great man stood, fermenting malice and poems we have to be nearly as fierce against ourselves as ...
Ah in the thunder air how still the trees are! And the lime-tree, lovely and tall, every leaf silent hardly ...
A faint, sickening scent of irises Persists all morning. Here in a jar on the table A fine proud spike ...
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