Sonnet To Fanny Alexander (James Russell Lowell Poems)
Unconscious as the sunshine, simply sweetAnd generous as that, thou dost not closeThyself in art, as life were but a ...
Unconscious as the sunshine, simply sweetAnd generous as that, thou dost not closeThyself in art, as life were but a ...
Summer is dying in the purple and gold and russetof the falling leaves of the wood,and the sunset clouds are ...
IOh, for the power to call to aid, of mineOwn humble Muse, the famed and sacred nine.Then might she fitly ...
OSMOTAR THE BRIDE-ADVISERNow the bride must be instructed,Who will teach the Maid of Beauty,Who instruct the Rainbow-daughter?Osmotar, the wisdom-maiden,Kalew's fair ...
ACT II.--At Eisenach.SCENE I. A Room in the LANDGRAVE'S Palace. FREDERICK THE GRAVE and HENRY SCHNETZEN.LANDGRAVE.Who tells thee of my ...
ON Dinan's walls the morning sunlight plays, Gilds the stern fortress with a crown of rays, Shines on the children's ...
AN APOSTROPHE TO THE MOON.O, silvery moon, fair mistress of the night,Thou mellow, ever vaccilating orb,How many eons of unmeasured ...
KULLERVO FINDS HIS TRIBE-FOLK.Kullerwoinen, young magician,In his beauteous, golden ringlets,In his magic shoes of deer-skin,Left the home of IlmarinenWandered forth ...
Come, list to my story, More sorry, by far, To her who must tell it, And you ...
Now the high holocaust of hours is done,And all the west empurpled with their death,How swift oblivion drinks the fallen ...
A baby played with the surplice sleeve Of a gentle priest; while in accents low,The sponsors murmured the grand "I ...
THE wind is howling through the winter night,Like to a pack of angry wolves that cry.My hapless willows bend before ...
I, born in WeimarOf a mother who was FrenchAnd German father, a most learned professor,Orphaned at fourteen years,Became a dancer, ...
Tell me, would you rather beChanged by a fairy to the fineYoung orphan heiress Geraldine, Or still be Emily? Consider, ...
It drizzled, but not even grasses Would bend within the bag of storm; Dust only gulped its rain in pellets, ...
There is a wistful charm, a tenderness,Mysterious and soft, in autumn's even:The trees in weird and brilliant garments dress,The gory ...
Nothing came to claim my muse, instead I dreamed of freedoms neatly folded in a treasure chest lying in the ...
Your face broods from my table, Suicide. Your force came on like a torrent toward the end of agony and ...
HEARKEN, oh hearken! let your souls behind you Turn, gently moved! Our voices feel along the Dread to find you, ...
BOOK FIRST. I. ALL valor died not on the plains of Troy. Awake, my Muse, awake! be thine the joy ...
I, born in Weimar Of a mother who was French And German father, a most learned professor, Orphaned at fourteen ...
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