The Horseman In The Night (Cicely Fox Smith Poems)
IN the hedgerow, in the hollow, between the brown hills,When all with dark and shadows the silent valley fills,'Tis there ...
IN the hedgerow, in the hollow, between the brown hills,When all with dark and shadows the silent valley fills,'Tis there ...
A LITTLE bird flew my window by, 'Twixt the level street and the level sky, The level rows of houses ...
WE wandered down the meadow way-- The path beside the hedge is shady,-- You did not see the ...
Great Zimbabwe in the sun,Far awayDreams all dayOf his riddles solved of none,Where just now the swallows muster,Cling and cluster,Chestnut ...
SMILE on me, mouth of red--so much too red,Shine on me, eyes which darkened lashes shade,Turn, turn my way, oh ...
With joy all relics of the past I hail; The heath-bell, lingering in our cultured moor, Or the dull sound ...
The turn of noontide has begun. In the weak breeze the sunshine yields. There is a bell upon the fields. ...
There is a wildness still in England that will not feed In cages; it shrinks away from the touch of ...
All summer I heard them rustling in the shrubbery, outracing me from tier to tier in my garden, a whisper ...
BETWEEN wheatfield and corn, Between hedgerow and thorn, Between pasture and tree, Where's my sweetheart Tell it me! Sweetheart caught ...
I Midwinter spring is its own season Sempiternal though sodden towards sundown, Suspended in time, between pole and tropic. When ...
The cuckoo, like a hawk in flight, With narrow pointed wings Whews o'er our heads-soon out of sight And as ...
O Rose! who dares to name thee? No longer roseate now, nor soft, nor sweet; But pale, and hard, and ...
The brave Geraint, a knight of Arthur's court, A tributary prince of Devon, one Of that great Order of the ...
O meadow lark, so wild and free, It cannot be, it cannot be, That men to merchandise your spell Do ...
THOU! whose sublime poetic art Can pierce the pulses of the heart, Can force the treasur'd tear to flow In ...
DAME DOWSON, was a granny grey, Who, three score years and ten, Had pass'd her busy hours away, In talking ...
Who are these people at the bridge to meet me? They are the villagers---- The rector, the midwife, the sexton, ...
ALL day they loitered by the resting ships, Telling their beauties over, taking stock; At night the verdict left my ...
When I lie where shades of darkness Shall no more assail mine eyes, Nor the rain make lamentation When the ...
Hence, loathed Melancholy, ............Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born In Stygian cave forlorn ............'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights ...
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