The Lay Of Marie – Canto Second (Matilda Betham Poems)
Some, fearing Marie's tale was o'er, Lamented that they heard no more; While Brehan, from her broken lay, Portended what she yet might ...
Some, fearing Marie's tale was o'er, Lamented that they heard no more; While Brehan, from her broken lay, Portended what she yet might ...
IThe cool grass blowing in a breeze Of April valleys sooms and sways;On slopes that dip to quiet seas Through far, faint ...
FAR in the ways of the hyaline wastes-in the face of the splendidSix of the sisters-the star-dowered sisters ineffably bright,Merope ...
WAN-VISAGED thing! thy virgin leafTo me looks more than deadly pale,Unknowing what may stain thee yet,--A poem or a tale.Who ...
Awash in flowers, colors riot,Descending slowly from a hill,She nears and stars… Who are you? — Maya.I am so grateful that you're ...
DON JUAN has ever the grand old air,As he greets me with courtly grace;Like a crown of glory the snow-white ...
On the tallest day in time the dead came back.Clouds met us in the pastures past a world.By short wave ...
From Christ to GhandiAppears this truth-St. Francis of AssisiProves it, too:Goodness becomes grandeurSurpassing might of kings.Halos of kindnessBrighter shineThan crowns ...
Oh the dear summer evening! How the air is mellow with the delicate breath of flowers and wafts of hay ...
What is death, I ask. What is life, you ask. I give them both my buttocks, my two wheels rolling ...
'Twas at that season, when the gloomOf cheerless Winter's pass'd away,And flowers spring up, with sweet perfume,To scent the breeze ...
The spot is flaked with mist, that fills,Thickening into rolls more dank,The thresholds and the window-sills,And smokes on every bank.The ...
"WHEN the lessons and tasks are all ended, And the school for the day is dismissed, The little ones ...
Glassmakers, at century's end, compounded metallic lusters in reference to natural sheens (dragonfly and beetle wings, marbled light on kerosene) ...
In a wilderness, in some orchestral swing through trees, with a wind playing all the high notes, and the prospect ...
When, by decree of the supreme power, The Poet appears in this annoyed world, His mother, blasphemous out of horror ...
What is death, I ask. What is life, you ask. I give them both my buttocks, my two wheels rolling ...
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