The Helot (Isabella Valancy Crawford Poems)
I.Low the sun beat on the land, Red on vine and plain and wood;With the wine-cup in his hand, Vast the Helot ...
I.Low the sun beat on the land, Red on vine and plain and wood;With the wine-cup in his hand, Vast the Helot ...
Why idly, shepherd, through the live-long day,In thriftless song thy youthful leisure waste?The busy world now beckons thee away;Oh! quit ...
O thou son of the dark locks and eloquent tongue,With the brain of a statesman sagacious, and strong,And the heart ...
Not from Paestum come my roses; Patrons, seeMy flowers are Roman-blown; their nectariesDrop honey amber, and their petals throwRich crimsons ...
TINGED with the blood of Aztec lands,Sphinx-like, the tawny herdsman stands,A coiled reata in his hands.Devoid of hope, devoid of ...
August 6th , 1875.Harp of my native landThat lived anew 'neath Carolan's master hand;Harp on whose electric chords,The minstrel Moore's ...
It boots not to retrace the path To ages dim and hoar, When Man, at the domestic hearth, ...
THE SUNNY rounds of Earth contain An obverse to its Day, Our fertile Vagrancy's domain, Wan Proletaria. From pole to ...
With the lifting of the curtain, Distance, dim, but grimly certain, Breaks my vision of a city, populous and great, ...
Oh, Liberty! thou child of many hopes, Nursed in the cradle of the human heart; While Europe in her glimmering ...
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