The Old-Timer (Cicely Fox Smith Poems)
Times, they say, must change, and folks must change with 'em too:That's how it is in the West, now the ...
Times, they say, must change, and folks must change with 'em too:That's how it is in the West, now the ...
When you and I are buriedWith grasses over head,The memory of our fights will standAbove this bare and tortured land,We ...
A host of poppies, a flight of swallows; A flurry of rain, and a wind that follows Shepherds the leaves ...
Lone white gull with sickle wings, You reap for the heart inscrutable things: Sorrow of mists and surf ...
I How fresh the Dartle's little waves that day! A steely silver, underlined with blue, And flashing where the round ...
If instead of being hanged by the neck you're thrown inside for not giving up hope in the world, your ...
Walking carefully onto the stone bridge snow and ice on the path We stood together in our finery our three ...
A flurry of motion descended on the ripe flower new, open, uncovered nectar fragrant bloom blazing yellow Plate of color, ...
Frozen in her icy grasp captured in the frigid stillness coated by layer on layer a blanket of white, of ...
THE simple Jane was sent to bring Fresh water from the neighb'ring spring; The matter pressed, no time to waste, ...
It is blue-butterfly day here in spring, And with these sky-flakes down in flurry on flurry There is more unmixed ...
FOR a name unknown, Whose fame unblown Sleeps in the hills For ever and aye; For her who hears The ...
ONE winter night, at half-past nine, Cold, tired, and cross, and muddy, I had come home, too late to dine, ...
A week before the Armistice, you died. They did not keep your heart like Livingstone's, then plant your bones near ...
Two lovers, here at the corner, by the steeple, Two lovers blow together like music blowing: And the crowd dissolves ...
A quay with vessels moored Thomas To India! Yea, here I may take ship; From here the courses go over ...
I have a life that did not become, that turned aside and stopped, astonished: I hold it in me like ...
Alone in Sutton with Fynbos my orange cat A long weekend of wind and rain drowning The tumultuous flurry of ...
On silver sand where ripples curled I counted sea-gulls seven; Shy, secret screened from all the world, And innocent as ...
I HAVE kept all, not one is thrown away, not one given to the ragman, not one thrust in a ...
Two birds loved in a flurry of red feathers like a burst cottonball, continuing while I drove over them. I ...
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