We Walked in the Garden (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
A long time from the creation but awhile ago, we, the two of us walked for a moment in the ...
A long time from the creation but awhile ago, we, the two of us walked for a moment in the ...
Living orange, growing, spreading eating the limb of the living tree, framed by the field, the backdrop of other fall ...
Warming blue Across the arc of the dome He left for us after the Flood Daubs of color Dabbed on ...
Layers of clouds grays and white living sky with rich visual texture Rippled screens of space like the flesh of ...
All crying, 'We will go with you, O Wind!' The foliage follow him, leaf and stem; But a sleep oppresses ...
These pools that, though in forests, still reflect The total sky almost without defect, And like the flowers beside them, ...
Her teacher's certainty it must be Mabel Made Maple first take notice of her name. She asked her father and ...
(A Christmas Circular Letter) THE CITY had withdrawn into itself And left at last the country to the country; When ...
By June our brook's run out of song and speed. Sought for much after that, it will be found Either ...
Because I was content with these poor fields, Low open meads, slender and sluggish streams, And found a home in ...
I Time present and time past Are both perhaps present in time future, And time future contained in time past. ...
So like a flower and a current of air the flow of water fleeting shadows the smile glimpsed at midnight ...
They talk as slow as Legends grow No mushroom is their mind But foliage of sterility Too stolid for the ...
Talk not to me of Summer Trees The foliage of the mind A Tabernacle is for Birds Of no corporeal ...
An Antiquated Tree Is cherished of the Crow Because that Junior Foliage is disrespectful now To venerable Birds Whose Corporation ...
The West Village by then was changing; before long the rundown brownstones at its farthest edge would have slipped into ...
PART I On Susquehanna's side, fair Wyoming! Although the wild-flower on thy ruin'd wall, And roofless homes, a sad remembrance ...
Sister of love-lorn Poets, Philomel! How many Bards in city garret pent, While at their window they with downward eye ...
Well, they are gone, and here must I remain, This lime-tree bower my prison! I have lost Beauties and feelings, ...
Late, late yestreen I saw the new Moon, With the old Moon in her arms ; And I fear, I ...
Well, they are gone, and here must I remain, This lime-tree bower my prison! I have lost Beauties and feelings, ...
The winter comes; I walk alone, I want no bird to sing; To those who keep their hearts their own ...
Now it is time to say what you have to say. The room is quiet. The whirring fan has been ...
1 They that in play can do the thing they would, Having an instinct throned in reason's place, --And every ...
NOT in scorn do I reprove thee, Not in pride thy vows I waive, But, believe, I could not love ...
How still, how happy! Those are words That once would scarce agree together; I loved the plashing of the surge ...
Death! that struck when I was most confiding In my certain faith of joy to be - Strike again, Time's ...
Beneath the forest's skirts I rest, Whose branching pines rise dark and high, And hear the breezes of the West ...
The country ever has a lagging Spring, Waiting for May to call its violets forth, And June its roses--showers and ...
It is a sultry day; the sun has drank The dew that lay upon the morning grass, There is no ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories