Men (Hanford Lennox Gordon Poems)
Man is a creature of a thousand whims;The slave of hope and fear and circumstance.Through toil and martyrdom a million ...
Man is a creature of a thousand whims;The slave of hope and fear and circumstance.Through toil and martyrdom a million ...
All touch, all eye, all ear, The Spirit felt the Fairy's burning speech. O'er the thin texture of its frame The varying periods ...
The hostility of the kindred races of Pandu and Kuru forms one of the great circles of Indian fable. It fills ...
BOB POLTER was a navvy, andHis hands were coarse, and dirty too,His homely face was rough and tanned,His time of ...
Why came I here to live? Because he cameHither, my great-grandsire, who came-to die.Leading his little neighbor dwelling band,A century ...
Here am I-breathing,Working,LivingAnd Writing my poetry(My best to it giving).Life and I glowerAcross at each other,and with it I strugglewith ...
Iago Prytherch his name, though, be it allowed,Just an ordinary man of the bald Welsh hills,Who pens a few sheep ...
Iago Prytherch his name, though, be it allowed,Just an ordinary man of the bald Welsh hills,Who pens a few sheep ...
How gracefully, O man, with thy palm-bough,Upon the waning century standest thou, In proud and noble manhood's prime,With unlocked senses, ...
Tombed in the solid night of starless space; From nearest living orb so far removed, That light, of all material ...
IWe look for her that sunlike stoodUpon the forehead of our day,An orb of nations, radiating foodFor body and for ...
DERE'S lighds oopon de Appian, Dey shine de road entlang; Und from ein hundert tombs dere brumms A wild Lateinisch ...
O ye women! WIMMIN! WEEMIN!!See our tears repentant streamin'!See the pearly drops a-gleamin', Streamin' from our rheumy eye!Mark our weskits ...
1Meandering abroad in the Lincolnshire meadows dayDay and day a month perhaps, lying at night lonely,The early September evening administering ...
"BESIDE that tent and under guard In majesty alone he stands, As some chained eagle, broken-winged, With eyes that gleam ...
Iago Prytherch his name, though, be it allowed, Just an ordinary man of the bald Welsh hills, Who pens a ...
How gracefully, O man, with thy palm-bough, Upon the waning century standest thou, In proud and noble manhood's prime, With ...
Yet one Song more! one high and solemn strain Ere PAEAN! on thy temple's ruined wall I hang the silent ...
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