The measureless gulfs of air are full of Thee (Jean Ingelow Poems)
"In Him we live, and move, and have our being."The measureless gulfs of air are full of Thee: Thou Art, and ...
"In Him we live, and move, and have our being."The measureless gulfs of air are full of Thee: Thou Art, and ...
Vast hollow voids, beyond the utmost reach Of suns, their legions withering at His nod, Died into day hearing the voice of ...
. Fast, in its prison-walls of earth, Awaits the mould of baked clay. Up, comrades, up, and aid the ...
Green Spring receivethThe vacant earth;The white sun shineth;Spring wind provokethTo burst and burgeonEach sprout and flower.In those dark caves where ...
WILD winged thing, O brought I know not whence To beat your life out in my life's low cage; You ...
Tonight as I was riding on a wave Of triumph and of glory, A Question suddenly, as from the ...
WANDERING amid the horrors of the night, Musing, my sighs mix with the whistling wind, Dim watery shadows shroud my ...
THE creeds he wrought of dream and thought Fall from him at the touch of life, His old gods fail ...
This poem is not addressed to you. You may come into it briefly, But no one will find you here, ...
If a large love of the whole human race, With charity that hopeth a meet cureFor life's ...
Too long, alas, too longMy patient heart enduresThis deep and desperate wrong-To walk on fallen ways afar from yours.O pain ...
From rim to shimmering rim the sea Is burnished like chalcedony. The waves that set their lips to land Scarce ...
This poem is not addressed to you. You may come into it briefly, But no one will find you here, ...
The shepherd's brow, fronting forked lightning, owns The horror and the havoc and the glory Of it. Angels fall, they ...
a nearby field provides the plants sometimes with a wild profusion (organisation seems a long way off) it takes an ...
For Margot Snow that fallest from heaven, bear me aloft on thy wings To the domes of the star-girdled Seven, ...
For Margot Snow that fallest from heaven, bear me aloft on thy wings To the domes of the star-girdled Seven, ...
I I see the boys of summer in their ruin Lay the gold tithings barren, Setting no store by harvest, ...
Where once the waters of your face Spun to my screws, your dry ghost blows, The dead turns up its ...
Fast, in its prison-walls of earth, Awaits the mould of baked clay. Up, comrades, up, and aid the birth The ...
When I went to the city, Mary McNeely, I meant to return for you, yes I did. But Laura, my ...
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