432 South Eighth (Henry Meade Bland Poems)
(SAN JOSE, CAL.)The Edwin Markham HomeThis was the place wherein the singer tunedHis harp and listening, caught the immortal strain.Here ...
(SAN JOSE, CAL.)The Edwin Markham HomeThis was the place wherein the singer tunedHis harp and listening, caught the immortal strain.Here ...
Colonos, can it be that thou hast still Thy laurel and thine olive and thy vine? Do thy close--feathered nightingales yet trill Their ...
"'There sinks the nebulous star we call the Sun,If that hypothesis of theirs be sound'Said Ida; 'let us down and ...
Over the great windy waters, and over the clear-crested summits, Unto the sun and the sky, and unto the perfecter ...
'Midst Tivoli's luxuriant glades,Bright-foaming falls, and olive shades,Where dwelt, in days departed long,The sons of battle and of song,No tree, ...
Preludes.I The Wife's Tragedy Man must be pleased; but him to please ...
"This is her diary. Come with me to viewThe canyon; think you see it as of oldWhen Martha lived, and ...
February 23, 1921. Read at Hart House Theatre before the University of Toronto. The Muse is stern unto her favoured ...
September: 1643Sweet air and fresh; glades yet unsear'd by handOf Midas-finger'd Autumn, massy-green;Bird-haunted nooks between,Where feathery ferns, a fairy palmglove, ...
Here in the inmost of the master's heartThis violet crisp with early dewHas come to leave her beauty and to ...
648Promise This-When You be Dying-Some shall summon Me-Mine belong Your latest Sighing-Mine-to Belt Your Eye-Not with Coins-though they be MintedFrom ...
An unwrapped icon, too potent to touch, she freed my breasts from the camp Empire dress. Now one of them's ...
Promise This -- When You be Dying -- Some shall summon Me -- Mine belong Your latest Sighing -- Mine ...
Dreams are the subtle Dower That make us rich an Hour -- Then fling us poor Out of the purple ...
How agreeable it is not to be touring Italy this summer, wandering her cities and ascending her torrid hilltowns. How ...
It had been four days of no weather as if nature had conceded its genius to the indoors. They'd closed ...
I. How well I know what I mean to do When the long dark autumn-evenings come: And where, my soul, ...
I. He was a Grecian lad, who coming home With pulpy figs and wine from Sicily Stood at his galley's ...
'There sinks the nebulous star we call the Sun, If that hypothesis of theirs be sound' Said Ida; 'let us ...
The Muse is stern unto her favoured sons, Giving to some the keys of all the joy Of the green ...
Here in the inmost of the master's heart This violet crisp with early dew Has come to leave her beauty ...
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