The Fate Of Sir John Franklin (Bessie Rayner Parkes Poems)
IN summer, eighteen fifty-eight, A ship sailed out from Aberdeen; A gilded pet for summer state The little Fox had ...
IN summer, eighteen fifty-eight, A ship sailed out from Aberdeen; A gilded pet for summer state The little Fox had ...
Over Sir John's hill,The hawk on fire hangs still;In a hoisted cloud, at drop of dusk, he pulls to his ...
I've had a whirl at games of chance From Bombay 'round to Cork,I've sensed the ways of high finance ...
Where the rocks are gray and the shore is steep, And the waters below look dark and deep, Where the ...
Here in the midnight, where the dark mainland and islandShadows mingle in shadow deeper, profounder,Sing we the hymns of the ...
Most every night when they're in bed,And both their little prayers have said,They shout for me to come upstairsAnd tell ...
Far above us where a jayScreams his matins to the day,Capped with gold and amethyst,Like a vapour from the forgeOf ...
GLEAMING through clouds, the low and western sun Of river-side lights up the rocky face;See there, as by magician's lantern, ...
Far in the grim Northwest beyond the lines That turn the rivers eastward to the sea, Set with a ...
MY mother taught me that every night a procession of junks carrying lanterns moves silently across the sky, and the ...
A little child paddles a little boat,Drifting about, and picking white lotuses.He does not know how to hide his tracks,And ...
Full of wrath was Hiawatha When he came into the village, Found the people in confusion, Heard of all the ...
By the shore of Gitche Gumee, By the shining Big-Sea-Water, At the doorway of his wigwam, In the pleasant Summer ...
"Give me of your bark, O Birch-tree! Of your yellow bark, O Birch-tree! Growing by the rushing river, Tall and ...
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea, There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks ...
THROUGH my north window, in the wintry weather,-- My airy oriel on the river shore,-- I watch the sea-fowl as ...
I brought one of my canoe paddles to the poetry presentation at school passing it around in the classroom watching ...
Campsite set Late afternoon Late June Grab a friend Get the canoe Head up the brook The tributary Portage through ...
Here in the midnight, where the dark mainland and island Shadows mingle in shadow deeper, profounder, Sing we the hymns ...
My heart is like a singing bird Whose nest is in a water'd shoot; My heart is like an apple-tree ...
She is large and matronly And rather dirty, A little sardonic-looking, as if domesticity had driven her to it. Though ...
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