The Wanderer: A Vision: Canto IV (Richard Savage Poems)
Still o'er my mind wild Fancy holds her sway,Still on strange visionary land I stray.Now scenes crowd thick! now indistinct ...
Still o'er my mind wild Fancy holds her sway,Still on strange visionary land I stray.Now scenes crowd thick! now indistinct ...
Let gaudy Mirth, to the blithe Carrol-song,In loose light-measur'd Numbers dance along;Thou, Muse no flow'ry Fancies here display,Nor warble with ...
Why dost thou, darksome Nightingale,Sing so distractingly--and here?Dawn's preludings prick my ear,Faint light is creeping up the vale, While on these ...
Faintly heard mutterings,Dimly seen flutterings,Crouching forms ... tangled hair,Withered limbs ... visage bare.Groping foot ... earth-bound rootSeek motion: Slowly shoot ...
IThe sister Hours in circles linked,Daughters of men, of men the mates,Are gone on flow with the day that winked,With ...
1.REMEMBER, Lord, thou hast not made me good.Or if thou didst, it was so long agoI have forgotten—and never understood,I ...
I.If thou hadst been a sculptor, what a raceOf forms divine had thenceforth filled the land!Methinks I see thee, glorious ...
How big of breast our Mother Gaea laughedAt sight of her ...
Faint as a climate-changing bird that fliesAll night across the darkness, and at dawnFalls on the threshold of her native ...
Day of the cloud in fleets! O dayOf wedded white and blue, that sailImmingled, with a footing rayIn shadow-sandals down ...
WRITTEN FOR THE ANNIVERSARY OF HIS BIRTH, JANUARY 25, 1859.A HUNDRED years ago, when George was King, The second monarch ...
Why dost thou hail with songful lips no more The glorious sunrise?-Why is Memnon mute, Whose voice was tuned as ...
Love heeds no more the sighing of the windAgainst the perfect flowers: thy garden's closeIs grown a wilderness, where none ...
Faint as a climate-changing bird that flies All night across the darkness, and at dawn Falls on the threshold of ...
Three score and ten, the psalmist saith, And half my course is well-nigh run; I've had my flout at dusty ...
Birds have no consciousness of doom: Yon thrush that serenades me daily From scented snow of hawthorn bloom Would not ...
Here is my Garret up five flights of stairs; Here's where I deal in dreams and ply in fancies, Here ...
LONG TIME I LAY IN LITTLE EASE LONG time I lay in little ease Where, placed by the Turanian, Marseilles, ...
TEMPEST tossed and sore afflicted, sin defiled and care oppressed, Come to me, all ye that labour; come, and I ...
Written for the Art Autograph during the Irish Famine, 1880. Heartsome Ireland, winsome Ireland, Charmer of the sun and sea, ...
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