The Voice At The Cross-Roads (R S Ward Poems)
Wait — For the Wood is dark,Man cannot leave his markLost in that Forest of sinuous Ways,Hear the Wind blustering,Forces ...
Wait — For the Wood is dark,Man cannot leave his markLost in that Forest of sinuous Ways,Hear the Wind blustering,Forces ...
Remembrance, what wilt thou with me? The yearDeclined; in the still air the thrush piped clear,The languid sunshine did incurious ...
DOWN sunk the sun, nor shed one golden ray, But rising mists shut in the low'ring day: The tides o'erflown ...
Freedom, thy son is dead!Once more the solemn treadOf the long, slow cortege echoes to throbsOf a nation's heart, and ...
"Sweet are the rosy memories of the lips That first kiss'd ours, albeit they kiss no more: Sweet is the ...
Ye who read in musty volumesPages worn of Backwoods Times,Of the red man and the white man,In the thrilling days ...
Now hath the summer reached her golden close,And, lost amid her corn-fields, bright of soul,Scarcely perceives from her divine reposeHow ...
I'M STEWING in a brick-built town; My coat is quite a stylish cut,And, morn and even, up and down, ...
I rode past, thinking, recently,Like one who's sad and sorrowful,Of that lament that renders me Of all lovers the most ...
It is the story of Thompson--of Thompson, the hero of Angels.Frequently drunk was Thompson, but always polite to the stranger;Light ...
When the Cambridge flower-show ended, And the flowers and guests were gone, And the evening shades descended, Roamed ...
Some folks there be who seem to need excitement fast and furious,An' reckon all the joys that have no thrill ...
In a garden of delight,Where sweet Nature's wand disclosesWondrous vistas to the sight,Once I met a rose-bush, dightIn a wealth ...
WHO is she from yonder green willow, Now weaving a band for her hair,That early has left her soft ...
How still it is here in the woods. The treesStand motionless, as if they did not dareTo stir, lest it ...
Passer-by, these are words. But instead of reading I want you to listen: to this frail Voice like that of ...
Shy one, shy one, Shy one of my heart, She moves in the firelight pensively apart. She carries in the ...
1 O TAKE my hand, Walt Whitman! Such gliding wonders! such sights and sounds! Such join'd unended links, each hook'd ...
And they have drown'd thee then at last! poor Phillis! The burthen of old age was heavy on thee. And ...
I The Moon is like a ping-pong ball; I lean against the orchard wall, And see it soar into the ...
WHERE on the bosom of the foamy RHINE, In curling waves the rapid waters shine; Where tow'ring cliffs in awful ...
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