Sonnet XXXIV: The Dark Glass (Dante Gabriel Rossetti Poems)
Not I myself know all my love for thee:How should I reach so far, who cannot weighTo-morrow's dower by gage ...
Not I myself know all my love for thee:How should I reach so far, who cannot weighTo-morrow's dower by gage ...
Angelic minds, they say, by simple intelligence Behold the Forms of nature. They discern Unerringly the Archtypes, all the verities ...
Crashing waves on a rocky coast, rain falling on parched ground The cry of a newborn baby, the call of ...
Sin and redemption breach and healing two ends of the same continuum from the start to the new beginning the ...
THOSE who in fables deal, bestow at ease Both names and titles, freely as they please. It costs them scarcely ...
The Sphynx is drowsy, Her wings are furled, Her ear is heavy, She broods on the world.? "Who'll tell me ...
The Sphinx is drowsy, Her wings are furled: Her ear is heavy, She broods on the world. "Who'll tell me ...
Under what withering leprous light The very grass as hair is grey, Grass in the cracks of the paven courts ...
For Margot Snow that fallest from heaven, bear me aloft on thy wings To the domes of the star-girdled Seven, ...
For Margot Snow that fallest from heaven, bear me aloft on thy wings To the domes of the star-girdled Seven, ...
1) Sleeping birds, lead me, soft birds, be me inside this black room, back of the white moon. In the ...
1 Adios, Carenage In idle August, while the sea soft, and leaves of brown islands stick to the rim of ...
I. Ribh at the Tomb of Baile and Aillinn Because you have found me in the pitch-dark night With open ...
When I was a child there was an old woman in our neighborhood whom we called The Witch. All day ...
1. DREAMS I was an ice baby. I turned to sky blue. My tears became two glass beads. My mouth ...
I We thrill too strangely at the master's touch; We shrink too sadly from the larger self Which for its ...
Take it away, and swallow it yourself. Ha! Look you, there's a rat. Last night there were a dozen on ...
Was I thinking so loudly? A heart absorbs the absurd on a regular basis. Primordial fears and poisoned skies are ...
Master I may be, But not of my fate. Now come the kisses, too many too late. Tell me, O ...
She has not yet been born: she is music and word, and therefore the untorn, fabric of what is stirred. ...
A Fantasy, dedicated to the little poet Alice Oliver Henderson, ten years old. The Fantasy shows how tiger-hearts are the ...
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