Winter And Summer (Arthur Weir Poems)
Come Winter, merry Winter, Rejoice while yet you may,For nearer, ever nearer, Fair Summer draws each day,And soon the tiny ...
Come Winter, merry Winter, Rejoice while yet you may,For nearer, ever nearer, Fair Summer draws each day,And soon the tiny ...
Of old, with goodwill from the skies—God's message to them given—The angels came, a glad surprise,And went again to heaven.But ...
I wonder if the sap is stirring yet, If wintry birds are dreaming of a mate, If frozen snowdrops feel ...
We gaze upon the apple-flower in bud, Knowing decay will brown the pink-hued bloom We see a summer morning's sunshine-flood, ...
CLAMBERING up the rocky bank, Briers and honeysuckles fling Greenest branches unto air Fragrant in the early spring: Streams let ...
Not all flowers have souls,But roses, for they are memories of lovers,And lilies, their prayers,Azaleas; who give themselves to the ...
February, bitter February,Month of hope withheld and promise vain,Drenching, under fickle smiles, the unwaryEarth with devastating rain.Ere the limes with ...
CXVII shall not flatter that gross mass of sin, Wicked myself, with this delusive thought, That my dear lady's spotless ...
All the sweet summer azure is not fled-What hath the woodland, then, to do with grief?The apparition of a yellow ...
Trees look empty, branches bare,When the busy months begin,Gardeners all must have a careNot to stay too much within.Catkins, on ...
The Bell in the convent tower swung. High overhead the great sun hung, A navel for the curving sky. The ...
I sat all morning in the college sick bay Counting bells knelling classes to a close. At two o'clock our ...
from late december onwards the day comes back but not till february do we see those glimpses that let us ...
THE bed of flowers Loosens amain, The beauteous snowdrops Droop o'er the plain. The crocus opens Its glowing bud, Like ...
The child alone a poet is: Spring and Fairyland are his. Truth and Reason show but dim, And all's poetry ...
The nights have grown cool again, like the nights Of early spring, and quiet again. Will Speech disturb you? We're ...
I In my beginning is my end. In succession Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended, Are removed, destroyed, restored, ...
All's over, then: does truth sound bitter As one at first believes? Hark, 'tis the sparrows' good-night twitter About your ...
(Newdigate prize poem recited in the Sheldonian Theatre Oxford June 26th, 1878. To my friend George Fleming author of 'The ...
I wish it were spring in the world. Let it be spring! Come, bubbling, surging tide of sap! Come, rush ...
The darkness steals the forms of all the queens, But oh, the palms of his two black hands are red, ...
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