Honours — Part II. (Jean Ingelow Poems)
As one who, journeying, checks the rein in haste Because a chasm doth yawn across his wayToo wide for leaping, and ...
As one who, journeying, checks the rein in haste Because a chasm doth yawn across his wayToo wide for leaping, and ...
1We, whose lungs fill with the sweetness of day.Who in May admire trees floweringAre better than those who perished.We, who ...
Merrily rang out the midnight bells, Glad tidings of joy for all;As crouched a little shiv'ring child, Close by the churchyard wall.The ...
(_Erected on the Thames Embankment, 1878_).Thou reverend relic from a far-off clime,Of ancient days, triumphant over Time.Thou ocean traveller, brought ...
Cisterns and stones; the fig-tree in the wallCasts down her shadow, ashen as her boughs,Across the road, across the thick ...
Not the Prussian, the forsworn,By whose fury overborne,Martyred Belgium, you lieBruised with all injury.Through your peace red paths he clove,Burning, ...
Thou child of Man, fall down With contrite heart and low; Inheritor by fleshly birth Of exile, death, and woe. Thou child of Man, ...
XXIVIf one voice, not another, must speak first, out of the silence, the stillness, the preceding- speaking clearly, speaking slowly, ...
Souvent, pour s'amuser, les hommes d'?quipagePrennent des albatros, vastes oiseaux des mers,Qui suivent, indolents compagnons de voyage,Le navire glissant sur ...
COME forth! the world's aflame with flags and flowers, The shout of bells fills full the shattered air, ...
dear boss i was talking with an ant the other day and he handed me a lot of gossip which ...
The heirs of cultured ages, we Fashioned an idol for all to see. We all could see or thought we ...
You speak to me Of the long plunge and welter of the sea; Likewise you are Oracular Of its low ...
Under my window-ledge the waters race, Otters below and moor-hens on the top, Run for a mile undimmed in Heaven's ...
I. Ancestral Houses Surely among a rich man's flowering lawns, Amid the rustle of his planted hills, Life overflows without ...
Child, the current of your breath is six days long. You lie, a small knuckle on my white bed; lie, ...
1. Mother, my Mary Gray, once resident of Gloucester and Essex County, a photostat of your will arrived in the ...
Close on the margin of a brawling brook That bathes the low dell's bosom, stands a Cot; O'ershadow'd by broad ...
1 We, whose lungs fill with the sweetness of day. Who in May admire trees flowering Are better than those ...
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