Nanawawa’s Lakelet (Albery Allson Whitman Poems)
Where the dark ash upward towereth,And the maple drops her brown shade,And the rough oak spreads his broad arms,And the ...
Where the dark ash upward towereth,And the maple drops her brown shade,And the rough oak spreads his broad arms,And the ...
Evening steals on in stillness o'er the heath,Across the blue-green sky and fire-tinged clouds,And silent birds wing homewards; misty shroudsRise ...
IN the sleepy forest where the bluebells Smouldered dimly through the night, Dermuid saw the leaves like glad green waters ...
Dustily over the highway pipes the loud nor'-wester at morn, Wind and the rising sun, and waving tussock and corn; ...
I'm only a boy, but before me lie Life's paths untrod, and a sunny sky Bends o'er the paths, and ...
Away thro' the blue distant hills,Thou windest, deserted old Road;By farm houses brown and gray millsAnd log huts, the woodman's ...
I who, conceived beneath another star, Had been a prince and played with life, instead Have been its slave, an ...
Where the little river gleaming Thro' its shadows green and coolBroadens to the quiet dreaming Of a little shady pool;There ...
To Miss Eva Russell.The spring time is deaf to our pleading,The meadows are brown as can be.The hilltops are bleak ...
Her courts are by the flux of flaming ways, Between the rivers and the illumined sky Whose fervid depths reverberate ...
As I lay sleepingon Bakery HillI heard her calling:The leaves were still.Her words were warm doalsIn my dreams and me:"I ...
Spring Come, my beloved; let us walk amidst the knolls, For the snow is water, and Life is alive from ...
Stand up and be counted shout from the hilltops the joy of our salvation through the gift of His grace ...
Rock us to our core that we may truly live epiphany of your love pouring down on us The Christ, ...
In a still room at hush of dawn, My Love and I lay side by side And heard the roaming ...
Away, haunt thou me not, Thou vain Philosophy! Little hast thou bestead, Save to perplex the head, And leave the ...
Beneath the forest's skirts I rest, Whose branching pines rise dark and high, And hear the breezes of the West ...
In the warm yellow smile of the morning, She stands at the lattice pane, And watches the strong young binders ...
I who, conceived beneath another star, Had been a prince and played with life, instead Have been its slave, an ...
Her courts are by the flux of flaming ways, Between the rivers and the illumined sky Whose fervid depths reverberate ...
My head knocks against the stars. My feet are on the hilltops. My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores ...
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