The Seeking Love of God (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
Like the perfume of cooking wafting through the house the seeking love of God wooing after us There before we ...
Like the perfume of cooking wafting through the house the seeking love of God wooing after us There before we ...
The beach plum jelly out on the deck the thick sour dough toast dripping with it the bees coming closer ...
Something different, particular a May shower, the other day, not July; certainly not March a specific sound, a definite smell ...
There was something so very different so far from my ken, my experience sharing a tropical sunrise with her with ...
The evergreen forest, wet fragrance after the cooling shower sweet scent of pine caught in wisps of air mixing with ...
Special music wafting to the rafters into our hearts clear notes, loving song filling the sanctuary, as we join together ...
From a pure royal blue, to a spectrum of rust pale canary yellow, bleeds to burgundy and finally cobalt sudden ...
Dawn has reached the ridges to the north and a thin line of light chased the night west; it is ...
Brightly the sun of summer shone, Green fields and waving woods upon, And soft winds wandered by; Above, a sky ...
I. THE GARDEN. ABOVE the city hung the moon, Right o'er a plot of ground Where flowers and orchard-trees were ...
He. O PHILLY, happy be that day, When roving thro' the gather'd hay, My youthfu' heart was stown away, And ...
As if you actually died in that dream and woke up dead. Shadows of untangling vines tumble toward the ceiling. ...
My child wafts peace. When I lean over him, It is not just the smell of soap. All the people ...
1 OUT of the cradle endlessly rocking, Out of the mocking-bird's throat, the musical shuttle, Out of the Ninth-month midnight, ...
1 SINGING my days, Singing the great achievements of the present, Singing the strong, light works of engineers, Our modern ...
O TIME, forgive the mournful song That on thy pinions stole along, When the rude hand of pain severe Chas'd ...
ENLIGHTEN'D Patron of the sacred Lyre? Whose ever-varying, ever-witching song Revibrates on the heart With magic thrilling touch, Till ev'ry ...
As one who in his journey bates at noon, Though bent on speed; so here the Arch-Angel paused Betwixt the ...
A True Incident of Pre-Revolutionary French History. Now the lovely autumn morning breathes its freshness in earth's face, In the ...
Your lips are like a southern lily red, Wet with the soft rain-kisses of the night, In which the brown ...
I shall return again; I shall return To laugh and love and watch with wonder-eyes At golden noon the forest ...
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