Cadet Grey – Canto III (Francis Bret Harte Poems)
IWhere the sun sinks through leagues of arid sky, Where the sun dies o'er leagues of arid plain,Where the dead ...
IWhere the sun sinks through leagues of arid sky, Where the sun dies o'er leagues of arid plain,Where the dead ...
INow farewell to you! you areOne of my dearest, whom I trust:Now follow you the Western star,And cast the old ...
A TALE. WHILE tyrants sit enthron'd in state,With trophies at their feet,And fawning courtiers round them wait,With adulation sweet!Informing them ...
No, no, my friend; there is an agony Not to be exorcised out of the world By any ...
A fortnight before Christmas Gypsies were everywhere:Vans were drawn up on wastes, women trailed to the fair.'My gentleman,' said one, ...
I worked for fifty hours a week, And someone said to me,"Don't be a serf! Throw off your chains, And ...
Sad and slow was the wanderer's tread,As o'er the lengthen'd way she sped;And often she cast a wishful eyeOn the ...
Out of their slumber Europeans spunDense dreams: appeasements, miracle, glimpsed flashOf a new golden era; but could not restrainThe vertical ...
Cold wind of autumn, blowing loudAt dawn, a fortnight overdue,Jostling the doors, and tearing throughMy bedroom to rejoin the cloud,I ...
Sam Small had retired from the Army, In the old Duke of Wellington's time, So when present unpleasantness started, He ...
Within my Garden, rides a Bird Upon a single Wheel -- Whose spokes a dizzy Music make As 'twere a ...
Of nearness to her sundered Things The Soul has special times -- When Dimness -- looks the Oddity -- Distinctness ...
A throe upon the features -- A hurry in the breath -- An ecstasy of parting Denominated "Death" -- An ...
We talked with family last night, not mine or yours specifically but ours, the ones we love familiarly. When little ...
Even tonight will pass into memory's oblivion, doomed, despite an ardent reunion of once estranged yet precisely matched parts, to ...
It's not that the Muse feels like clamming up, it's more like high time for the lad's last nap. And ...
It's not that the Muse feels like clamming up, it's more like high time for the lad's last nap. And ...
Karshish, the picker-up of learning's crumbs, The not-incurious in God's handiwork (This man's-flesh he hath admirably made, Blown like a ...
NO more wine? then we'll push back chairs and talk. A final glass for me, though: cool, i' faith! We ...
I rode one evening with Count Maddalo Upon the bank of land which breaks the flow Of Adria towards Venice: ...
Cold wind of autumn, blowing loud At dawn, a fortnight overdue, Jostling the doors, and tearing through My bedroom to ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories