Sonnet to Lord Bothwell – 4 (Mary Stuart Poems)
My love for him is growing and shall growThroughout my life as long as there's a partWhere it can grow ...
My love for him is growing and shall growThroughout my life as long as there's a partWhere it can grow ...
The market dispersed as the western guns were heard.A wrong move had caused the sudden loss of the strategic game!Terrified, ...
Since God has, in his generosity,Granted you such good fortune nowIn all good standing to be free to go,With a ...
Nature's a Sphinx. And her ordealIs all the more destructive to mankindBecause, perhaps, she has no riddle.Nor did she ever ...
On the morning of May,Ere the children had entered my gateWith their wreaths and mechanical lay,A metal ding-dong of the ...
LAND of departed fame! whose classic plains Have proudly echo'd to immortal strains; Whose hallow'd soil hath given the great ...
Listen to the Poet's story Of an ancient bell,Freighted with its wreaths of glory, With its fate as well:On Alhambra's ...
Tell me, mother Nature! tender yet stern mother! In what nomenclature (fitlier than another) Can I laud and ...
Comme dans l'?ponge il y a dans l'orange une aspiration ? reprendre contenance apr?s avoir subi l'?preuve de l'expression. Mais ...
Oh! Dreams are mysteries! The free born mindOwns not the fetters which the body wears,By sleep imposed. But starting from ...
DYING THOUGHTS.As Life's receding sunset fades And night descends,I calmly watch the gathering shades,As darkness stealthily invades ...
Whilst what I write I do not see, I dare thus, ev'n to you, write poetry.Ah, foolish Muse! ...
Here I make oath--Although the heart that knows its bitternessHear loath,And credit less--That he who kens to meet Pain's kisses ...
HEY dug no grave for our soldier lad, who fought and who died out there:Bugle and drum for him were ...
Nature's a Sphinx. And her ordeal Is all the more destructive to mankind Because, perhaps, she has no riddle. Nor ...
Lancaster bore him--such a little town, Such a great man. It doesn't see him often Of late years, though he ...
The ordeal's fatal trumpet sounded, And sad pale Adelgitha came, When forth a valiant champion bounded, And slew the slanderer ...
The angel of self-discipline, her guardian Since she first knew and had to go away From home that spring to ...
These are outsiders, always. These stars- these iron inklings of an Irish January, whose light happened thousands of years before ...
-and not simply by the fact that this shading of forest cannot show the fragrance of balsam, the gloom of ...
There was a cold In which A line of water across the chest risen (dream) Impetuate, or Impetuates Orthograph you ...
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