Dark-Browed Martha (Effie Afton Poems)
When the frost-king clothed the forests In a flood of gorgeous dyes, Death called little dark-browed Martha ...
When the frost-king clothed the forests In a flood of gorgeous dyes, Death called little dark-browed Martha ...
When the frost-king clothed the forests In a flood of gorgeous dyes, Death called little dark-browed Martha ...
Not in this green retreatHowever beautiful, while Summer launchesHer odors and soft airs through swaying branches;—Though wild flowers court our ...
The maiden sat by the river side (The rippling water murmurs by),And sadly into the clear blue tide The salt ...
Once, long ago, before the godsHad left this earth, by stream and forest glade,Where the first plough upturned the clinging ...
As I walked out in the streets of Laredo,As I walked out in Laredo one day,I spied a poor cowboy ...
Not a drum was heard, nor a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried; ...
When the first sere leaves of the year were falling,I heard, with a heart that was strangely thrilled,Out of the ...
The hoof-beats sound, the harness clacks and clinks, The wagon rattles in the frosty air Along the level prairie road ...
'TIS many a year since yonder grave, On which the fresh herbs flourish now, Heap'd on each side its sods, ...
O, tomb of the pastWhere buried hopes lie,In my visions I seeThy phantoms pass by!A form, long departed, Before me ...
Good ev'nin', Mis' Priest. I jest stepped in to tell you Good-bye. Yes, it's all over. All my things is ...
All year the flax-dam festered in the heart Of the townland; green and heavy headed Flax had rotted there, weighted ...
Between my finger and my thumb The squat pin rest; snug as a gun. Under my window, a clean rasping ...
certain creatures it seems are never seen straight on - they occupy the corner of the eye once sensed (a ...
The last pose flickered, failed. The screen's dead white Glared in a sudden flooding of harsh light Stabbing the eyes; ...
FAME. See, as the prettiest graves will do in time, Our poet's wants the freshness of its prime; Spite of ...
The old priest Peter Gilligan Was weary night and day; For half his flock were in their beds, Or under ...
SHALL I strew on thee rose or rue or laurel, Brother, on this that was the veil of thee? Or ...
'Twas near the Begum Kothie the battle began, Where innocent blood as plentiful as water ran; The Begum Kothie was ...
She is large and matronly And rather dirty, A little sardonic-looking, as if domesticity had driven her to it. Though ...
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