Planting Better Seeds (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
Every day, every year may I be growing in you abiding in the vine growing in the world The Spirit ...
Every day, every year may I be growing in you abiding in the vine growing in the world The Spirit ...
She spoke with greater power, with authority beyond the written words she had prepared sharing a different story, a truer ...
Oh, may I join the choir invisible Of those immortal dead who live again In minds made better by their ...
I have a Bird in spring Which for myself doth sing -- The spring decoys. And as the summer nears ...
1. Dear relatives and friends, when my last breath Grows large and free in air, don't call it death -- ...
But do not let us quarrel any more, No, my Lucrezia; bear with me for once: Sit down and all ...
I That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers, And the blue eye Dear and dewy, And that infantine fresh air of hers! ...
She has laughed as softly as if she sighed, She has counted six, and over, Of a purse well filled, ...
When the soft sweet wind o' the south went by, I dwelt in the light of a dark brown eye; ...
1 FIRST, O songs, for a prelude, Lightly strike on the stretch'd tympanum, pride and joy in my city, How ...
Pellam the King, who held and lost with Lot In that first war, and had his realm restored But rendered ...
Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood Had made mock-knight of Arthur's Table Round, At Camelot, high above the ...
Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood Had made mock-knight of Arthur's Table Round, At Camelot, high above the ...
Now, scarce three paces measured from the mound, We stumbled on a stationary voice, And 'Stand, who goes?' 'Two from ...
You are blind like us. Your hurt no man designed, And no man claimed the conquest of your land. But ...
Striving is life, yet life is striving; I fight to live, yet live to fight; The vital urge is in ...
TO what shall I compare her, That is as fair as she? For she is fairer - fairer Than the ...
The wet dawn inks are doing their blue dissolve. On their blotter of fog the trees Seem a botanical drawing ...
How sweet the answer Echo makes To music at night, When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes, And far ...
The windless northern surge, the sea-gull's scream, And Calvin's kirk crowning the barren brae. I think of Giotto the Tuscan ...
After two sittings, now our Lady State To end her picture does the third time wait. But ere thou fall'st ...
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