The Maid-Martyr (Jean Ingelow Poems)
Only you'd have me speak. Whether to speakOr whether to be silent is all one;Whether to sleep and in my dreaming ...
Only you'd have me speak. Whether to speakOr whether to be silent is all one;Whether to sleep and in my dreaming ...
I.THERE was a windless mere, on whose smooth breastA little island, flushed with purple bloom,Lay gently cradled like a moorhen's ...
THE tossing spray of Cocheco's fallHardened to ice on its rocky wall,As through Dover town in the chill, gray dawn,Three ...
... a separation from the world, a penetration to some source of power and a life-enhancing return ... Van Gennep: Rites ...
1640-1890.O river winding to the sea!We call the old time back to thee;From forest paths and water-waysThe century-woven veil we ...
To kneel before some saintly shrine,To breathe the health of airs divine,Or bathe where sacred rivers flow,The cowled and turbaned ...
We who have walked deserted stubble fields on a December evening,Who have seen over the field's edge a soft river ...
First-born of the creating Voice!Minister of God's Spirit, who wast sentWaiting upon him first, what time he wentMoving about mid ...
The earth smells dank, the weeds grow rank, The cold ...
Summers and summers have come, and gone with the flight of the swallow; Sunshine and thunder have been, storm, and ...
MY soul is like some cage-born bird, that hath A restless prescience-howsoever won- Of a broad pathway leading to the ...
Now the autumn maize is growing, Now the corn-cob fills, Where the Little River flowing Winds among the hills. Over ...
Inscribed to the Memory of John Keats. Dear uplands, Chester's favorable fields, My large unjealous Loves, many yet one -- ...
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