The Prophecy Of St. Oran: Part II (Mathilde Blind Poems)
I.THERE was a windless mere, on whose smooth breastA little island, flushed with purple bloom,Lay gently cradled like a moorhen's ...
I.THERE was a windless mere, on whose smooth breastA little island, flushed with purple bloom,Lay gently cradled like a moorhen's ...
1.I went out into the night of quiet stars;I looked up at the wheeling heavens, at the mysterious firmament;I thought ...
By chapel bare, with walls sea-beatThe lichened urns in wilds are lostAbout a carved memorial stoneThat shows, decayed and coral-mossed,A ...
All man's acts,Serious or trivial, all man's thoughts perchancePass not unmarked of angel eye, or God's.We know in daytime there ...
An excellent peasant, Of character pleasant, Once lived in a hut with his wife. He was cheerful and docile, But such an old fossil You ...
_Part I_I'm out to find the new, the modern school,Where Science trains the fledgling bard to fly,Where critics teach the ...
O hideous little bat, the size of snot,With polyhedral eye and shabby clothes,To populate the stinking cat you walkThe promontory ...
Just drifting on together-- He and I--As through the balmy weather Of July Drift two thistle-tufts imbedded Each in each--by zephyrs wedded-- Touring upward, giddy-headed, For ...
Yet to the wondrous St. Peter's, and yet to the solemn Rotunda, Mingling with heroes and gods, yet to the ...
KULLERVO AND THE CHEAT-CAKE.Thereupon the lad, Kullervo,Laid his luncheon in his basket,Drove the herd to mountain-pastures,O'er the hills and through ...
WHAT doest thou here, fair rose, on rocky shore Opening thy pure and scented breast to blushIn these rude wilds, ...
I know him, February's thrush,And loud at eve he valentinesOn sprays that paw the naked bushWhere soon will sprout the ...
'The Bull, the Fleece are cramm'd, and not a roomFor love or money. Let us picnic thereAt Audley Court.' I ...
Part First Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut the door. A storm was rising, heavy gusts of wind Swirled through the trees, ...
'The Bull, the Fleece are cramm'd, and not a room For love or money. Let us picnic there At Audley ...
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