Clifton Grove (Henry Kirke White Poems)
Lo! in the west, fast fades the lingering light,And day's last vestige takes its silent flight.No more is heard the ...
Lo! in the west, fast fades the lingering light,And day's last vestige takes its silent flight.No more is heard the ...
Ah ! lost one ! hide that tempting smile, And turn away that thrilling eye ;They only languish, to beguile, They only ...
Mother, why are people crowding now and staring? Child, it is a malefactor goes to His doom,To the high hill of ...
Woman of weeping eye, ah! for thy wretched lot,Putting on smiles to lure the lewd passenger,Smiling while anguish gnaws at ...
Satan rejoyc'd, when Hee had wonne False Judas, to his wicked will, And made him to betray the Virgins sonne, That so Death's ...
Echo of the clocktower, footstepin the alleyway, sweepof the wind sifting the leaves.Jeweller of the spiderweb, connoisseurof autumn's opulence, blade ...
WITH our late Vicar, and his age the same,His clerk, hight Jachin, to his office came;The like slow speech was ...
No charms she now can boast,--'tis true,But other charmers wither too:"And she is old,"--the fact I know,And old will other ...
From the German of B?rger. BESIDE the parson's dusky bow'r Why strays a troubl'd sprite,That dimly shines in ...
OBSERVE that tall pale Veteran! what a lookOf shame and guilt!--who cannot read that book?Misery and mirth are blended in ...
SONG I.WILD wing my notes, fierce passions urge the strain; Strong flame the fires that kindle in my soul; I ...
"SEE'ST thou yon lily in its blooming pride, Its snowy bosom op'ning to the view, Surcharg'd with gems of bright ...
Unluckily for a deathWaiting with phoenix underThe pyre yet to be lighted of my sins and days,And for the woman ...
I am troubled to-night with a curious pain;It is not of the flesh, it is not of the brain,Nor yet ...
SO full my thoughts are of thee, that I swear All else is hateful to my troubl'd soul; ...
"OH! Passion, seducer of heart and of soul! Thou transport tyrannic! half pleasure, half pain! Why consum'st thou the breast ...
Barbarous insult to Yeats' memory and Claudel's Allen, thank God you are dead, you who breathed the air of Apollinaire, ...
I SIT and look out upon all the sorrows of the world, and upon all oppression and shame; I hear ...
The God of Scribes looked down and saw The bitter band of seven, Who had outraged his holy law And ...
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