Light (George MacDonald Poems)
First-born of the creating Voice!Minister of God's Spirit, who wast sentWaiting upon him first, what time he wentMoving about mid ...
First-born of the creating Voice!Minister of God's Spirit, who wast sentWaiting upon him first, what time he wentMoving about mid ...
1.LORD, I do choose the higher than my will.I would be handled by thy nursing armsAfter thy will, not my ...
A miller had three sons, And, on his dying day, He willed that all he owned should be ...
The floods were out. Far as the boundOf sight was one stupendous roundOf flat and sluggish crawling water!As, from a ...
SO many fruits come from rosesFrom the rose of all rosesFrom the unfolded roseRose of all the world.Admit that apples ...
HAIL, Devon! in thy bosom let me rest, And pour forth music from my raptur'd breast: I'll stray thy meadow'd ...
'Tis an eerie thing o'er the moor to fare When the eddies of peat-smoke justle, When the wraiths of ...
I.The dreary wind of night is out,Homeless and wandering slow;O'er pale seas moaning like a doubt,It breathes, but will not ...
In the fourth month summer shines; In the sixth the heat declines. Nature thus grants men relief; Tyranny gives only ...
Thy world is made to fit thine own,A nursery for thy children small,The playground-footstool of thy throne,Thy solemn school-room, Father ...
Now the frog, all lean and weak, Yawning from his famished sleep, Water in the ditch doth seek, Fast as ...
A hundred mares, all white! their manesLike mace-reed of the marshy plainsThick-tufted, wavy, free o' the ...
Over the hills of AprilWith soft winds hand in hand,Impassionate and dreamy-eyed,Spring leads her saraband.Her garments float and gatherAnd swirl ...
Last sea-thing dredged by sailor Time from Space,Are you a drift Sargasso, where the WestIn halcyon calm rebuilds her fatal ...
thoth (who became hermes who became mercury) who was both moon and wisdom to the egyptians manifested himself mainly as ...
I Soul, what art thou in the tribes of the sea? LORD, said a flying fish, Below the foundations of ...
THE PROLOGUE. The Sompnour in his stirrups high he stood, Upon this Friar his hearte was so wood,* *furious That ...
(Newdigate prize poem recited in the Sheldonian Theatre Oxford June 26th, 1878. To my friend George Fleming author of 'The ...
(Time, Morning. Scene, the Shore.) Once more to daily toil--once more to wear The weeds of infamy--from every joy The ...
Sad-Eyed and soft and grey thou art, o morn! Across the long grass of the marshy plain Thy west wind ...
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