Aftermath – Sonnet (John Frederic Herbin Poems)
But late I saw the mower's marching sweepLay bare and dry from upland to the tideThe whole green dyke. Even ...
But late I saw the mower's marching sweepLay bare and dry from upland to the tideThe whole green dyke. Even ...
Silence again. The glorious symphonyHath need of pause and interval of peace.Some subtle signal bids all sweet sounds cease,Save hum ...
Silence again. The glorious symphonyHath need of pause and interval of peace.Some subtle signal bids all sweet sounds cease,Save hum ...
Death in the house, and the golden-rodA-bloom in the field!O blossom, how, from the lifeless clod,When the fires are out ...
I (_Before He Comes_) Sweet under swooning blue and mellow mist September waves of forest overflow The hills with crimson, ...
Yes, the sweet summer lingers still; The hares loiter ...
No more the scarlet maples flash and burnTheir beacon-fires from hilltop and from plain; The meadow-grasses and the woodland fernIn ...
O crimson-tined flowers That live when others die, What thoughtless hand unloving Could ever pass you by? You are the ...
I saw a miracle to-day!Where the September sunshine layLanguidly as a lost desireUpon a sumach's fading fire,Where calm some pallid ...
Stumps, and harsh rocks, and prostrate trunks all charred, And gnarled roots naked to the sun and rain,— They seem ...
The breakers warned them from the sea,The late light lured them up the shore;The jewels of the golden-rodBlazed deep as ...
The golden gorse and the heatherBloom down the whole hill side,And below in the rocks are lyingStill pools where the ...
The lawyer, are you? Well! I ain't got nothin' to say. Nothin'! I told the perlice I hadn't nothin'. They ...
Unto one who lies at rest 'Neath the sunset, in the West, Clover-blossoms on her breast. Lover of each gracious ...
1 The golden-rod is yellow; 2 The corn is turning brown; 3 The trees in apple orchards 4 With fruit ...
Silence again. The glorious symphony Hath need of pause and interval of peace. Some subtle signal bids all sweet sounds ...
"OH, let's go up the hill and scare ourselves, As reckless as the best of them to-night, By setting fire ...
I Because I do not hope to turn again Because I do not hope Because I do not hope to ...
The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and ...
Once there was a cabin here, and once there was a man; And something happened here before my memory began. ...
Across the meadow in brooding shadow I walk to drink of the autumn's wine The charm of story, the artist's ...
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