Theophila Or Loves Sacrifice. Canto VII (Edward Benlowes Poems)
The Contemplation.ARGUMENT. Pango nec humanis Opus enarrabile Verbis, Quae meli?s possem Mira silendo loqui! Da, DEUS, Illa canam, quae Vox ...
The Contemplation.ARGUMENT. Pango nec humanis Opus enarrabile Verbis, Quae meli?s possem Mira silendo loqui! Da, DEUS, Illa canam, quae Vox ...
OR SKETCHES OF HIGHLAND SCENERY AND MANNERS: WITH SOME REFLECTIONS ON EMIGRATION. WRITTEN DURING THE AUTHOR'S RECOVERY FROM A LONG ...
TECUMSEH….Once this mighty continent was ours,And the Great Spirit made it for our use.He knew no boundaries, so had we ...
Above the dark good sea the boundless air rushed here and there, it flew like a blue falcon, silently swallowing ...
Give me light, God irrefutable, Inexplicable architect of the universe, Creator of fate and recognition, Tempest of breath, central ability, ...
II lie upon my bed and hear and see.The moon is rising through the glistening trees;And momently a great and ...
you being in lovewill tell who softly asks in love,am i separated from your body smile brain hands merelyto become ...
Night-long I heard the poignant undertone, The interminable sobbing of the sea; And now that morn breaks dim ...
THE wide streets glimmer in gray solitude.A last belated reveller, roistering by,Jerks out a catch, a spasm as to defyNight, ...
I hear the melancholy crying of birds in the night Over the long brown wrinkled fields that lie As far ...
Caught in the center of a soundless field While hot inexplicable hours go by What trap is this? Where were ...
The message is unknown; unimportant He spoke with authority. Now that was the thing The real message in the Word ...
The sorrow of riverside blossoms inexplicable, And nowhere to complain -- I've gone half crazy. I look up our southern ...
The Waste Land by T. S. Eliot "Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis vidi in ampulla pendere, et ...
Memory: I can take my head and strike it on a wall on Cumberland Island Where the night tide came ...
A poet's cat, sedate and grave As poet well could wish to have, Was much addicted to inquire For nooks ...
Mirrors are not more silent nor the creeping dawn more secretive; in the moonlight, you are that panther we catch ...
There are too many waterfalls here; the crowded streams hurry too rapidly down to the sea, and the pressure of ...
Oh! there are spirits of the air, And genii of the evening breeze, And gentle ghosts, with eyes as fair ...
The small dogs look at the big dogs; They observe unwieldy dimensions And curious imperfections of odor. Here is the ...
Mean while the heinous and despiteful act Of Satan, done in Paradise; and how He, in the serpent, had perverted ...
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