The Helot (Isabella Valancy Crawford Poems)
I.Low the sun beat on the land, Red on vine and plain and wood;With the wine-cup in his hand, Vast the Helot ...
I.Low the sun beat on the land, Red on vine and plain and wood;With the wine-cup in his hand, Vast the Helot ...
The great farm house of Malcolm Graem stoodSquare shoulder'd and peak roof'd upon a hill,With many windows looking everywhere;So that ...
"Come with me," said the Wind To the ship within the dock "Or dost thou fear the shock Of the ocean-hidden rock,When tempests ...
From where the City's seething tide Rolls on unceasing, day by day,To yonder soaring dome aside A little turn, a ...
Who now enters here,With his locks at the sere,And a face like a boy?Winter full of joy,Young heart and old ...
THE head and hands of murdered Cicero,Above his seat high in the Forum hung,Drew jeers and burning tears. When on ...
Give me the scorn of the stars and a peak defiant; Wail of the pines and a wind with the ...
Heigh ho! to sleep I vainly try; Since twelve I haven't closed an eye, And now it's three, and as ...
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