Muley Malek, The King (John Boyle O Reilly Poems)
THUNDER of guns, and cries-banners and spears and blood!Troops have died where they stood holding the vantage points-They have raced ...
THUNDER of guns, and cries-banners and spears and blood!Troops have died where they stood holding the vantage points-They have raced ...
We who have walked deserted stubble fields on a December evening,Who have seen over the field's edge a soft river ...
"The August sun had still two hours of sky When the white flag a-flutter from the house Signalled him in ...
O noon of life! A time to celebrate! Oh garden of summer!Restless happiness in standing, ...
The pungent smells of a California winter, Grayness and rosiness, an almost transparent full moon. I add logs to the ...
(_In the characteristic minor of a recent literary movement_) I long to see the solan-goose Wing over ...
It is not Spring-not yet-But at East Schaghticoke I saw an ivory birchLifting a filmy red mantle of knotted budsAbove ...
THE house, with blind unhappy face, Stands lonely in the last year's corn, And in the ...
The earth grows moldy in fog.The evening is as oppressive as lead.Electric sparks crackle and whimper all around,Breaking everything in ...
I'm mighty glad to see you, Mrs. Curtis, And thank you very kindly for this visit-- Especially now when all ...
A vine, deep rich dark green rising up from the earth living color against the sooted coated rust of the ...
I lift my heavy heart up solemnly, As once Electra her sepulchral urn, And, looking in thine eyes, I overturn ...
She recognizes him at last as Other, not Self. I see her in my mind, hot wax about to plummet ...
I Said the Watcher by the Way To the young and the unladen, To the boy and to the maiden, ...
They are always with us, the thin people Meager of dimension as the gray people On a movie-screen. They Are ...
There's a grayness over the harbor like fear on the face of a woman, The sob of the waves has ...
The moonlight breaks upon the city's domes, And falls along cemented steel and stone, Upon the grayness of a million ...
The Drunkards in the street are calling one another, Heeding not the night-wind, great of heart and gay, - Publicans ...
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