Symbols (Bessie Rayner Parkes Poems)
IT is not the rose, though the rose is red, And as full of love as a flower can be, ...
IT is not the rose, though the rose is red, And as full of love as a flower can be, ...
What sweetnesse is in fruits, in Nectorine, Peach, cherry, apricocke, those lips of ...
THERE is a grey-walled garden, far away From noise and smoke of cities, where the hours ...
AIR--_"The Braes of Balquhidder."_ Now the beams of May morn On the mountains are streaming, And ...
Beautiful Florida! land of the flowers,Home of the mocking bird, saucy and bold,Sweet are the roses that perfume thy bowers,And ...
Oh, the auld house, the auld house, What tho' the rooms were wee! Oh, kind hearts were dwelling there, And ...
In tangled wreaths, in clustered gleaming stars,In floating, curling sprays,The golden flower comes shining through the woodsThese February days;Forth go ...
The full September moon sheds floods of light,And all the bayou's face is gemmed with starsSave where are dropped fantastic ...
All through that day of battle the broken soundOf shattering Maxim fore made mad the wood;So that the low trees ...
To sup with thee thou didst me home invite, And mad'st a promise that mine appetite Should meet and tire, ...
Kill your Balm -- and its Odors bless you -- Bare your Jessamine -- to the storm -- And she ...
Oh that those lips had language! Life has pass'd With me but roughly since I heard thee last. Those lips ...
A ring of gold and a milk-white dove Are goodly gifts for thee, And a hempen rope for your own ...
It is full winter now: the trees are bare, Save where the cattle huddle from the cold Beneath the pine, ...
God bless the little orchard brown Where the sap stirs these quickening days. Soon in a white and rosy gown ...
Come into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, Night, has flown, Come into the garden, Maud, I am here ...
There is no transcience of twilight in The beauty of your soft dusk-dimpled face, No flicker of a slender flame ...
Come into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, Night, has flown, Come into the garden, Maud, I am here ...
Ye who are kicking against Fate, Tell me how it is that on this hill-side, Running down to the river, ...
In this Monody the author bewails a learned Friend, unfortunately drowned in his passage from Chester on the Irish Seas, ...
What time I paced, at pleasant morn, A deep and dewy wood, I heard a mellow hunting-horn Make dim report ...
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