Rural Sunday (Michael Barsley Poems)
With vacant stare in the market square,Tricked out in a lilac suit,The villager stands with great handsAnd chaffs with a ...
With vacant stare in the market square,Tricked out in a lilac suit,The villager stands with great handsAnd chaffs with a ...
AN inventory clear of all she needs Lamira offers here; Nor does she fear a rigid Cato's frown When she ...
A LOVELY show for eyes to seeI looked upon this morning,--A bright-hued, feathered companyOf nature's own adorning;But ah! those minstrels ...
And will she leave the lowly clowns For silk and satins gay,Her woollen aprons and drab gowns For lady's cold array?And will ...
The milky sky, the hazy, slender trees, Seem smiling on the light costumes we wear,— Our gauzy floating veils that have an ...
Inscription on a PhotographHow bright and brave they look, shouldering five-foot riflesOn the parade ground lit up by the first ...
Oh! was there ever tale of human loveWhich was not also tale of human tears?Died not sweet Desdemona? sorrowed notFair, ...
_A lay sung in the Temple of Minerva Girtanensis_. I Aemilia Girtonensis, By the Nine Muses swore That the ...
In the Beginning, God, the great Schoolmaster, wrote upon the white leaves of our souls the text of life, in ...
There is grief in the cup!I saw a proud mother set wine on the board;The eyes of her son sparkled ...
There I halted. Further down the hollowStood the township, where my errand lay.Firm my purpose, till a voice cried ...
Oh, I would live in a dairy, And its Colin I would be, And many a rustic fairy ...
The ancient songs Pass deathward mournfully. R.A. The old songs Die. Yes, the old songs die. Cold lips that sang ...
Good people all, with one accord Lament for Madam Blaize, Who never wanted a good word,- From those who spoke ...
When Stiivoren town was in its prime And queened the Zuyder Zee, Its ships went out to every clime With ...
I like to hear of wealth and gold, And El Doradoes in their glory; I like for silks and satins ...
(France -- Ancient Regime.) I. Go away! Go away; I will not confess to you! His black biretta clings like ...
Beyond the Rocking Bridge it lies, the burg of evil fame, The huts where hive and swarm and thrive the ...
What would I do without your voice to wake me? Cor ad cor loquitur, I'm loath to know. Kitsch operas ...
What is this, behind this veil, is it ugly, is it beautiful? It is shimmering, has it breasts, has it ...
You talk of riders on the flat, of nerve and pluck and pace -- Not one in fifty has the ...
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