Anna (Victor James Daley Poems)
The pale discrowned stacks of maize, Like spectres in the sun,Stand shivering nigh Avonaise, Where all is dead and gone.The sere leaves ...
The pale discrowned stacks of maize, Like spectres in the sun,Stand shivering nigh Avonaise, Where all is dead and gone.The sere leaves ...
Good-bye to Dirty Kate's saloon —Walk 'er round!As we slither past the last sand dune —Walk 'er round!We're outward bound!Good-bye ...
There are places in Wales I don't go:Reservoirs that are the subconciousOf a people, troubled far downWith gravestones, chapels, villages ...
Our staff car flies and trails a long-spun hazeover the looping road and the surge and fallof the heaving plains ...
THE VANITIE OF THE VVORLD. The Abnegation.ARGUMENT. What's potent Opulencie? What's remiss Voluptuousness? World, what's All This, To That the ...
We took a walk to Pamphy linns— Three other friends and I,Glad-hearted as when day begins With summer in the ...
IWhere West Point crouches, and with lifted shield Turns the whole river eastward through the pass;Whose jutting crags, half silver, ...
He comes unknown and heard and stands thereBreathes there hardly and hands gripFlesh and walking stick. Skips over moundsTo land ...
Tempora labuntur, tacitisque senescimus annis, Et fugiunt freno non remorante dies. Ovid, Fastorum, Lib. vi. "O C?sar, we who are ...
The tower bell in the Tenth Street Church Rang out nostalgia for the refugee Who knew the source of bells ...
'My father still reads the dictionary every day. He says your life depends on your power to master words.' Arthur ...
The mask, the image the face of death before me etched into the stone preserved for a time the name ...
The cold stones warmed by the sun the lichen and moss calling me to touch the masks of death the ...
The living come with grassy tread To read the gravestones on the hill; The graveyard draws the living still, But ...
But I am not yet dead and yet I rest my head sweetly on the bare gravestones of great poets, ...
I don't know if we're in the beginning or in the final stage. -- Tomas Tranströmer Rain is falling through ...
That flower unseen, that gem of purest ray, Bright thoughts uncut by men: Strange that you need but speak them, ...
Any poets about or bored muses fancying a day out? Rainy, windy, cold Leeds City Station Half-way through its slow ...
The opening scene. The yellow, coal-fed fog Uncurling over the tainted city river, A young girl rowing and her anxious ...
It was somewhere up the country, in a land of rock and scrub, That they formed an institution called the ...
Beautiful Loch Leven, near by Kinross For a good day's fishing the angler is seldom at a loss, For the ...
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