The Day Of The Daughter Of Hades (George Meredith Poems)
IHe who has looked upon EarthDeeper than flower and fruit,Losing some hue of his mirth,As the tree striking rock at ...
IHe who has looked upon EarthDeeper than flower and fruit,Losing some hue of his mirth,As the tree striking rock at ...
Lonely and still are now thy marble halls,Thou fair Alhambra! there the feast is o'er;And with the murmur of thy ...
Oh, but the heavenly grammar did I holdOf that high speech which angels' tongues turn gold!So should her deathless beauty ...
I.I stood in an ancient gardenWith high red walls around;Over them grey and green lichensIn shadowy arabesque wound.The topmost climbing ...
IN the sleepy forest where the bluebells Smouldered dimly through the night, Dermuid saw the leaves like glad green waters ...
When an apple tree is ready for the world to come and eat, There isn't any structure ...
Inspired by the letters of Ethel and Julius RosenbergWishing for the roses of your lipswe offered ourselves to a gallows' ...
Poem Faithful to your commands, o consciousness, o Beating wings, I studiedthe roses and the muses of reality,the deceptions and ...
To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough. You can no longer quiet me with ...
In hours of ebbing tide, oh trust not to the Sea! It will come back to shore with redness of ...
By the shore of Gitche Gumee, By the shining Big-Sea-Water, At the doorway of his wigwam, In the pleasant Summer ...
The cut, deep, into her palm wrapped, covered, days later Her little voice, her healing words raised in prayer to ...
Methought I saw him but I knew him not; He was so changed from what he used to be, There ...
I. June was not over Though past the fall, And the best of her roses Had yet to blow, When ...
Cumhal called out, bending his head, Till Dathi came and stood, With a blink in his eyes, at the cave-mouth, ...
Right down the shocked street with a siren-blast That sends all else skittering to the curb, Redness, brass, ladders and ...
Poem Faithful to your commands, o consciousness, o Beating wings, I studied the roses and the muses of reality, the ...
The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here. Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in I am ...
The day you died I went into the dirt, Into the lightless hibernaculum Where bees, striped black and gold, sleep ...
To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough. You can no longer quiet me with the ...
What large, dark hands are those at the window Lifted, grasping in the yellow light Which makes its way through ...
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