At The Age Of 35 (John Le Gay Brereton Poems)
Gone are the aching want, the unceasing fret,Mad flight and moaning over battered wings,And self-contempt whose secret penance wringsOut of ...
Gone are the aching want, the unceasing fret,Mad flight and moaning over battered wings,And self-contempt whose secret penance wringsOut of ...
On the morning of May,Ere the children had entered my gateWith their wreaths and mechanical lay,A metal ding-dong of the ...
IOne fairest of the ripe unwedded leftHer shadow on the Sage's path; he found,By common signs, that she had done ...
Listen to the Poet's story Of an ancient bell,Freighted with its wreaths of glory, With its fate as well:On Alhambra's ...
_Hark! Hark!The dogs do bark!It's the socialists come to town,None in rags and none in tags,Swaggering up and down_.Sunday morning,And ...
O Erin! thou broad-spreading valley--thou well-watered land of freshstreams,When I gaze on thy hills greenly sloping, where the light of ...
To the memory of Frank Littlehanged at MidnightI Six men drove up to his house at midnight, and woke the ...
In his village greyAt foot of the dykes, that encompass himWith weary weaving of curves and linesToward the sea outstretching ...
Thou art sleeping, brother, sleeping In thy lonely battle grave;Shadows o'er the past are creeping,Death, the reaper, still is reaping,Years ...
He who walks through the meadows of Champagne At noon in Fall, when leaves like gold appear, Sees it draw ...
THE Eagle sits with drooping wing upon the Southern coast,With soiled and broken shield, the arrows from his talons lost,The, ...
Dr. Birch's young friends will reassemble to-day, Feb. 1st.White is the wold, and ghostly The dank and leafless trees;And 'M's ...
I cannot hold my peace, John Keats; There never was a spring like this; It is an echo, that repeats ...
It is the sinners' dust-tongued bell claps me to churchesWhen, with his torch and hourglass, like a sulpher priest,His beast ...
Rise, mighty nation, in thy strength,And deal thy dreadful vengeance round;Let thy great spirit, roused at length,Strike hordes of despots ...
Those born in obscure timesDo not remember their way.We, children of Russia's frightful yearsCannot forget a thing.Incinerating years!, do you ...
In the market-place of Bruges stands the belfry old and brown; Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded, still it watches o'er ...
(From the French of Emile Verhaeren) He who walks through the meadows of Champagne At noon in Fall, when leaves ...
In the city set upon slime and loam They cry in their parliament 'Who goes home?' And there comes no ...
Yet one Song more! one high and solemn strain Ere PAEAN! on thy temple's ruined wall I hang the silent ...
TO mute and to material things New life revolving summer brings; The genial call dead Nature hears, And in her ...
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