In Spring (Dollie Radford Poems)
THE land is full of blossom, in the plainThe flowering orchards lie,As lightly as a mist that brings the rainAcross ...
THE land is full of blossom, in the plainThe flowering orchards lie,As lightly as a mist that brings the rainAcross ...
Virtue may unlock hell, or evenA sin turn in the wards of Heaven,(As ethics of the text-book go),So little men ...
Murmurings from within Were heard, sonorous cadences, whereby To his belief the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea. ...
MEASURE me out from the fathomless tun That somewhere or other you keep In your vasty cellars, O wealthy ...
How small a thing am I, of no repute, Whirled in the ...
"I SAW the constellated matin choir Then when they sang together in the dawn,- The morning stars of this first ...
YE idle hours of summer, not in vain,To one by Nature's beauty fed, ye pass -Though sending through the mental ...
Wild air, world-mothering air, Nestling me everywhere, That each eyelash or hair Girdles; goes home betwixt The fleeciest, frailest-flixed Snowflake; ...
There's an infinity of wisdom in your smile that would deny the winsome wit that lies at back of it; ...
(with apologies to Frederic Taber Cooper) I well recall (and who does not) The circus bill-board hippopotamus, whose wide distended ...
Strew on her roses, roses, And never a spray of yew! In quiet she reposes; Ah, would that I did ...
We talked of yesteryears, of trails and treasure, Of men who played the game and lost or won; Of mad ...
When I was small the Lord appeared Unto my mental eye A gentle giant with a beard Who homed up ...
I looked down on a daisied lawn To where a host of tiny eyes Of snow and gold from velvet ...
WHEN the breath of twilight blows to flame the misty skies, All its vaporous sapphire, violet glow and silver gleam ...
POOR little child, my pretty boy, Why did the hunter mark thee out? Wert thou betrayed by thine own joy? ...
OVER all the dream-built margin, flushed with grey and hoary light, Glint the bubble planets tossing in the dead black ...
I WOULD I could weave in The colour, the wonder, The song I conceive in My heart while I ponder, ...
The seafarers tell of the Eastern Isle of Bliss, It is lost in a wilderness of misty sea waves. But ...
Grey drizzling mists the moorlands drape, Rain whitens the dead sea, From headland dim to sullen cape Grey sails creep ...
To-day the woods are trembling through and through With shimmering forms, that flash before my view, Then melt in green ...
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