Foresight And Patience (George Meredith Poems)
Sprung of the father blood, the mother brain,Are they who point our pathway and sustain.They rarely meet; one soars, one ...
Sprung of the father blood, the mother brain,Are they who point our pathway and sustain.They rarely meet; one soars, one ...
Look! look there!Send your eyes across the grayBy my finger-point awayThrough the vaporous, fumy air.Beyond the air, you see the ...
WHY is it that the poet tells So little of the sense of smell? These are the odors I love ...
This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary The trees of the mind are black. The light is ...
To Jena Woodhouse This way of minutes miserably mixed With their own blinks misunderstood By birds and trees, this eye-born ...
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