Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary (Donald Marquis Poems)
MARY, Mistress Mary, How does your garden grow? From your uplands airy, Mary, Mistress Mary, Float the chimes of faery ...
MARY, Mistress Mary, How does your garden grow? From your uplands airy, Mary, Mistress Mary, Float the chimes of faery ...
Listen, The wind is still, And far away in the night -- See! The uplands fill With a running light. ...
I love the hour that comes, with dusky hair And dewy feet, along the Alpine dells To lead the cattle ...
For every tiny town or place God made the stars especially; Babies look up with owlish face And see them ...
Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill; Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes! No longer leave thy ...
A fisherman is drifting, enjoying the spring mountains, And the peach-trees on both banks lead him to an ancient source. ...
Fishing boat pursue water love hill spring Both banks peach blossom arrive ancient river crossing Travel look red tree not ...
1 A SONG of the good green grass! A song no more of the city streets; A song of farms-a ...
1 AS a strong bird on pinions free, Joyous, the amplest spaces heavenward cleaving, Such be the thought I'd think ...
GIVE me your hand, old Revolutionary; The hill-top is nigh-but a few steps, (make room, gentlemen;) Up the path you ...
There's music in my heart all day, I hear it late and early, It comes from fields are far away, ...
Part I On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and ...
Here is the height of land: The watershed on either hand Goes down to Hudson Bay Or Lake Superior; The ...
So shall this book wax like unto a well, Fairy with mirrored flowers about the brim, Or like some tarn ...
I WAS born on the prairie and the milk of its wheat, the red of its clover, the eyes of ...
Why do you dig like long-clawed scavengers To touch the covered corpse of him that fled The uplands for the ...
And I worked my way to the end, and I Was the head of the "Flying Gang". 'Twas a chosen ...
There's a gypsy wind across the harvest land, Let us fare forth with it lightly hand in hand; Where cloud ...
Ho, come out with the wind of spring, And step it blithely in woodlands waking; Friend am I of each ...
I. THEIR BASIC SAVAGERY Fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room, Barrel-house kings, with feet unstable, Sagged and reeled and ...
Inscribed to the Memory of John Keats. Dear uplands, Chester's favorable fields, My large unjealous Loves, many yet one -- ...
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