Unspoken words (John Boyle O Reilly Poems)
THE kindly words that rise within the heart,And thrill it with their sympathetic tone,But die ere spoken, fail to play ...
THE kindly words that rise within the heart,And thrill it with their sympathetic tone,But die ere spoken, fail to play ...
SWEET is the evening twilight; but, alas!There's sadness in it: day's light tasks are done,And leisure sighs to think how ...
The wilderness a secret keepsUpon whose guess I go:Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard;And yet I know, I ...
Not much of a dog yet,that smudge in the distance, beyond the reachof focus. It's just an impressionistgesture, a guess. ...
WHAT though no folk who saw her knew At heart she was Pierrette,Who went her sober wayIn robe and face of ...
I. Like the sweet Naiad of the Grecian's dreams,A Spirit born of Song — unseen, all-seeing—Lives deep within our dark ...
IDemeter devastated our good land,In blackness for her daughter snatched below.Smoke-pillar or loose hillock was the sand,Where soil had been ...
Madame,VVhil'st that, for which all vertue now is sold, And almost every vice, almightie gold,That which, to boote with hell, ...
Dame Spider had spun herself lank and thin With trying to take her neighbors in; Grasshopper had traveled ...
All things are Hers. Concealed or manifest, Found or unfound, Her Spirit lives in each-Dumb till the Master-Soul its ...
Gray is the sea, and the skies are gray;They are ghosts of our blue, bright yesterday;And gray are the breasts ...
Ah, Christ, I love you rings to the wild skyAnd I must think a little of the past:When I was ...
The glory of ships is an old, old song, since the days when the sea-rovers ran In their open boats ...
I like the old house tolerably well, Where I must dwell Like a familiar gnome; And yet I never shall ...
And what is Life? An hour-glass on the run, A mist retreating from the morning sun, A busy, bustling, still-repeated ...
FROM pent-up, aching rivers; From that of myself, without which I were nothing; From what I am determin'd to make ...
FACING west, from California's shores, Inquiring, tireless, seeking what is yet unfound, I, a child, very old, over waves, towards ...
Gold! We leapt from our benches. Gold! We sprang from our stools. Gold! We wheeled in the furrow, fired with ...
He gives me such a bold and curious look, That young American across the way, As if he'd like to ...
(To Mrs. Edward MacDowell) No sound of any storm that shakes Old island walls with older seas Comes here where ...
All night the dreadless Angel, unpursued, Through Heaven's wide champain held his way; till Morn, Waked by the circling Hours, ...
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