Six Brown Boxer Hats (John O Brien Poems)
The hawker with his tilted cart pulled up beside the fence,And opened out his wondrous mart with startling eloquence;All sorts ...
The hawker with his tilted cart pulled up beside the fence,And opened out his wondrous mart with startling eloquence;All sorts ...
Not the Prussian, the forsworn,By whose fury overborne,Martyred Belgium, you lieBruised with all injury.Through your peace red paths he clove,Burning, ...
Men go out from the places where they dwelled,They know not why not whither, overborneAt midnight by some awful word, ...
The poet hath a realm within, and throne,And in his own soul singeth his lament.A comer often in the world ...
"Now, scarce three paces measured from the mound,We stumbled on a stationary voice,And 'Stand, who goes?' 'Two from the palace' ...
Rose-red for the banner of love, And a blush for the cheek of the bride; To the valleys and hills ...
Silent I have stood and borne it, hoping still from year to yearThat the pleading voice of justice you would ...
OR OF THE FABLES OF THE ANCIENTS. Now that the sun the faded charms Of heaven again restores, And gentle ...
Life is not all for effort: there are hours,When fancy breaks from the exacting will,And rebel though takes schoolboy's holiday,Rejoicing ...
I lay me down straight, with closed eyes, And pale hands folded across my breast, Thinking, unpained, ...
INow, in the moonrise, from a wintry sky,The frost has come to charm with elfin mightThis quiet room; to draw ...
XIXWhy should I love? Why lay my heart before One who may glance with merriment or scorn Upon my offering? ...
SLEEP, half-blown rose, against my lady's breast, Rocked by my lady's heart and rhythmic breath, Sleep on, sweet rose, awaiting ...
I Over the yawning chimney hangs the fog. Drip -- hiss -- drip -- hiss -- fall the raindrops on ...
The nursery fire burns brightly, crackling in cheerful little explosions and trails of sparks up the back of the chimney. ...
Pale beech and pine-tree blue, Set in one clay, Bough to bough cannot you Bide out your day? When the ...
WHEN I look forth at dawning, pool, Field, flock, and lonely tree, All seem to look at me Like chastened ...
From noiseful arms, and acts of prowess done In tournament or tilt, Sir Percivale, Whom Arthur and his knighthood called ...
Now, scarce three paces measured from the mound, We stumbled on a stationary voice, And 'Stand, who goes?' 'Two from ...
The trumpets of the four winds of the world From the ends of the earth blow battle; the night heaves, ...
WHEN the soul sought refuge in the place of rest, Overborne by strife and pain beyond control, From some secret ...
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