Honours — Part I (Jean Ingelow Poems)
To strive—and fail. Yes, I did strive and fail; I set mine eyes upon a certain nightTo find a certain star—and ...
To strive—and fail. Yes, I did strive and fail; I set mine eyes upon a certain nightTo find a certain star—and ...
Without the slightest basis For hypochondriasis A widow had forebodings which a cloud around her flung, And with expression cynical For half the day a ...
Be pleased, O Lord, to take a people's thanksThat Thine avenging sword has spared our ranks-That Thou hast parted from ...
Devotion! When thy name is named, What matchless visions rise!The Hebrew, leaving Pharoah's house, To Israel's rescue flies;The Moabitess, gleans, content, Beneath the ...
As a relative, I have hope in common with no oneWith no one the choice of loveWith which I live ...
IThe mind is Beauty's thief, the poet takesThe golden spendthrift's trail among the bloomsWhere she stands tossing silver in the ...
TO M.O.S.Mary, since first I knew thee, to this hour,My love hath deepened, with my wiser senseOf what in Woman ...
Still the loud death drum, thundering from afar,O'er the vext nations pours the storm of war:To the stern call still ...
"WHEN winter's cold tempests and snows are no more, Green meadows and brown-furrowed fields reappearing, The fishermen hauling their ...
Six o'clock. From the railway yard The engine toots; careering hard, A milk-cart rattles by and stops; ...
Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree;The west wind breathes upon them, pure ...
Where the sunlight, burning down, Lights her luscious orange groves,Lights the river and the town; Where the placid Murray roves;Where ...
I'll sing a song of kings and queensAnd falling leaves and flying rain,With Time to mow, and Fate who gleansTheir ...
Turn on the prudent Ant, thy heedful eyes,Observe her labours, Sluggard, and be wise.No stern command, no monitory voicePrescribes her ...
The lilies whisper in the park,Pale watchers in the heavy night,Wan ghosts that haunt the fragrant dark.How pure they are! ...
The air heaving like a wounded fish, breathing through its purplish sandy gills, letting in the salty gale, fluttering its ...
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