Ghosts (Marguerite Mooers Marshall Poems)
They call you cold New England, But underneath your snow Is blood as red as roses That in your gardens blow. The God ...
They call you cold New England, But underneath your snow Is blood as red as roses That in your gardens blow. The God ...
IT WATCHED ME in the cradle laid, and from my boyhood's homeIt glared above my shoulder-blade when I wrote my ...
I. -- Here.IT is harvest-time in England,And I see the sheaves of cornIn their lines like sentries standingRound the farm ...
Scene I.A Garden on the banks of the Thames, at Fulham, behind the Wynnes' lodgings. Time, evening. Moon and starlight. ...
ACT V.SCENE I. A Room in DON TOMMASO'S House. ANNICCA discovered, attired in mourning. Enter DON TOMMASO.DON TOMMASO.If he still ...
Jehovah! Jehovah! art Thou not stronger than gods of the heathen? I slew him, that Sisera, prince of the ...
Sweet Solitude where dost thou linger? When and where shall I look in thy face? Feel the soft magic ...
The Censor sits behind his desk, And smiles a censored smile; His great, blue ...
There's a little bird with a wondrous song-- A little bird that every one knows-- (Though it sings ...
An angry angel hurled from the heavenly heightDrumroll alarms onto the sombre earth,Hundreds of stars burnt out their light,Hundreds of ...
I give the yawp barbaricOf piety and pelf(Who now reads Herrick?)And contradict myselfNo matter, the verse is large.My five-and-ten cent ...
LIBERTY? Is that the cry, then?We have heard it oft of yore.Once it had, we think, a meaning;Let us hear ...
Tuggin' at your bottle, An' it's O, you're mighty sweet!Just a bunch of dimples From your top-knot to your feet,Lying ...
When Rome, and Rommel, disappoint the foeThe Nice Kind German is again on show.On go the sheep-skins, and the wolves ...
Day of ending for beginnings! Ocean hath another innings, Ocean hath another score; And the surges sing his winnings, And ...
He stared up into my eyes with a look I can almost see now. He had that look in his ...
A quay with vessels moored Thomas To India! Yea, here I may take ship; From here the courses go over ...
As when the old moon lighted by the tender And radiant crescent of the new is seen, And for a ...
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten ...
He comes; I hear him up the street-- Bird of ill omen, flapping wide The pinion of a printed sheet, ...
I The arts are old, old as the stones From which man carved the sphinx austere. Deep are the days ...
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