Sonnet (George Woodcock Poems)
Looking into the windows that doom has brokenWhere the vague star illumines death and dustAnd the shadows of actions whose ...
Looking into the windows that doom has brokenWhere the vague star illumines death and dustAnd the shadows of actions whose ...
FAIR lucid Moon! whose softly chasten'd lightBeams on the bosom of the sleepless wave,Ah! never day may hope to rival ...
Friend of my chamber—O thou spiral shellThat murmurest of the ever-murmuring sea!Repeating with eternal constancyWhatever memories the wave can tell;Whatever ...
Come to my garden walk, my love. Pass by the fervid flowers thatpress themselves on your sight. Pass them by, ...
The poet hath a realm within, and throne,And in his own soul singeth his lament.A comer often in the world ...
1. It is still bright night in the Alps, and a cloud, Authoring joyfulness, covers the yawning valley. Playful ...
THE trees have now hid at the edge of the hurstThe spot where the ruins decayOf the cottage, where Will ...
… Oceanward I am ever yearning,Where far it rolls in its calm and grandeur,The weight of mountain-like fogbanks bearing,Forever wandering ...
For A FairPRINTEMPS.SWEET SPRING stands blushing 'mid the flowers, Heralded by benignant showers,And soft airs through the young leaves sighing ...
THO ' around on creation I gaze, And am struck with its wonderful plan;Yet regret must be mingled with ...
There's a dear little home in Good-Children street -My heart turneth fondly to-dayWhere tinkle of tongues and patter of feetMake ...
Superior General of the Congregation of the Missionand of the Sisters of Charity.A shadow slept folded in vestments, The dream ...
YOU blame me, dear friend, for admiring of cats,Which (except for destroying of mice and of rats)You say is a ...
O DEAREST my sister, my sister who sits by the hearth, With lids softly drooping, or lifted up saintly and ...
want you, yet I know that nevercan I embrace you to my heart's content.you are that clear and bright sky.I, ...
GALAHADS, Galahads, Percivals, gallop! Bayards, to the saddle! -- the clangorous trumpets, Hoarse with their ecstasy, call to the mellay. ...
There's a dear little home in Good-Children street - My heart turneth fondly to-day Where tinkle of tongues and patter ...
After the separation of death one can eventually swallow back one's grief, but the separation of the living is an ...
Of whom so dear The name to hear Illumines with a Glow As intimate -- as fugitive As Sunset on ...
Any poets about or bored muses fancying a day out? Rainy, windy, cold Leeds City Station Half-way through its slow ...
Come to my garden walk, my love. Pass by the fervid flowers that press themselves on your sight. Pass them ...
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