The Tent On The Beach (John Greenleaf Whittier Poems)
I would not sin, in this half-playful strain,--Too light perhaps for serious years, though bornOf the enforced leisure of slow ...
I would not sin, in this half-playful strain,--Too light perhaps for serious years, though bornOf the enforced leisure of slow ...
The plaza was so still in that moment two years ago thateverything was clear,As if it had been preserved beneath ...
I.Light, warmth, and sprouting greenness, and o'er allBlue, stainless, steel-bright ether, raining downTranquillity upon the deep-hushed town,The freshening meadows, and ...
The ox-team and the automobileStood face to face on the long red road,The long red road was narrowAt the turn ...
ON what long tidesDo you drift to my fire,You waifs of strange waters?From what far seas,What murmurous sands,What desolate beaches--Flotsam ...
Dead grasses parched by heat. The steppeland, seared,Runs on and merges with the sky's pale reaches.Here is a horse's sun-bleached ...
Girded by wastes of sounding foam, Slumbers unseen the fruitful isle;Day in, day out, the cloudless dome Looks down with ...
I regret bitterly The years of loving you in both Your presence and absence, regret The law, the vocation That ...
Like burnt-out torches by a sick man's bed Gaunt cypress-trees stand round the sun-bleached stone; Here doth the little night-owl ...
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