The Prophecy Of St. Oran: Part II (Mathilde Blind Poems)
I.THERE was a windless mere, on whose smooth breastA little island, flushed with purple bloom,Lay gently cradled like a moorhen's ...
I.THERE was a windless mere, on whose smooth breastA little island, flushed with purple bloom,Lay gently cradled like a moorhen's ...
My little story, Cousin Rufus said,Is not so much a story as a fact.It is about a certain willful boy--An ...
GIFT from the cold and silent Past!A relic to the present cast,Left on the ever-changing strandOf shifting and unstable sand,Which ...
FAR in the ways of the hyaline wastes-in the face of the splendidSix of the sisters-the star-dowered sisters ineffably bright,Merope ...
O thou, my Muse,Beside the Kentish River runningThrough water-meads where dewsTossed flashing at thy feetAnd tossing flashed againWhen the timid ...
In these green fields, in this green spring,In this green world of burning sweetThat drives its sour from everythingAnd burns ...
The sedge was sere; the water still,As waiting for the wintry chill;When, shadow-like along the hill,She moved alone.The owl, upon ...
When last I saw thee, I did not thee see,It was thine Image which in my thoughts laySo lively figur'd, ...
As years passed on, no wonder, eachAn inward grace revealed;For where the soul is peace and love,It may not be ...
Thy purpose, heavenly stranger, who may tellBut Him, who linked thee to the starry whole?Wherefore, in this our darkness, be ...
Emaricdulf loue is a holy fire That burnes vnseene, and yet not burning seene:Free of himselfe, yet chain'd with strong ...
I serve you not, if you I follow, Shadow-like, o'er hill and hollow, And bend my fancy to your leading, ...
GIFT from the cold and silent Past! A relic to the present cast, Left on the ever-changing strand Of shifting ...
He found her by the ocean's moaning verge, Nor any wicked change in her discerned; And she believed his old ...
What may the woman labour to confess? There is about her mouth a nervous twitch. 'Tis something to be told, ...
What may the woman labour to confess? There is about her mouth a nervous twitch. 'Tis something to be told, ...
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