Red Or White? (Emily Pfeiffer Poems)
In a western city new-born from a withering fire, Fresh ...
In a western city new-born from a withering fire, Fresh ...
22nd January, 1901.THE Queen is dead. God save the King,In this his hour of grief,When sorrow gathers memories in a ...
God made the man and bid him multiply, Replenish the green earth, nor break the die Made by His hand; ...
There are six sorrows in my heart- Red Allen, Clare, and Joan, Sweet Bet, and Jock, and little Roy; Six ...
Left for dead? I — Charlie Coleman,On the field we won — and lost,Like a dog; the ditch my death-bedMy ...
The dull world clamors at my feet And asks my hand and helping sweet; And wonders when the time shall ...
(_At Monte Carlo_) We met upon the street; Quick passion sprung into the eye of each; No dilettante ...
A fierce unrest seethes at the core Of all existing things: It was the eager wish to ...
_Love me to-night! Fold your dear arms around me-- Hurt me--I do but glory in your might!Tho' your fierce strength ...
The silence of traitorous feet!The silence of close-pent rage!The roar, and the sudden heart-beat!And the shot through the true heart ...
It is a shabby backdrop of bright stars:one of the small interstices of time:the worn out north star northward, and ...
WERE I a boy, with a boy's heart-beat At glimpse of her passing adown the street, Of a room where ...
I woke in the black watches of the night And heard the low intoning of the main, A ...
IN a soft-complexioned sky,Fleeting rose and kindling grey,Have you seen Aurora flyAt the break of day?So my maiden, so my ...
Lyric of Korea.I dreamed that I was touching her eyelids, and I awokeTo find her sleepy temples of rose jade ...
I The inkstand is full of ink, and the paper lies white and unspotted, in the round of light thrown ...
In his lodge beside a river, Close beside a frozen river, Sat an old man, sad and lonely. White his ...
Marking time in pencil strokes across a virgin page and waiting for coincidence of heart-beat and second-hand, keying to the ...
I Soul, what art thou in the tribes of the sea? LORD, said a flying fish, Below the foundations of ...
Earth no longer hymns the Creator, the seven days of wonder, the Garden is over - all the stories are ...
My world is a painted fresco, where coloured shapes Of old, ineffectual lives linger blurred and warm; An endless tapestry ...
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