To The Memory Of Father Prout (Denis Florence MacCarthy Poems)
In deep dejection, but with affection,I often think of those pleasant times,In the days of Fraser, ere I touched a ...
In deep dejection, but with affection,I often think of those pleasant times,In the days of Fraser, ere I touched a ...
To-night ungather'd let us leave This laurel, let this holly stand: We live within ...
O bird with heart of wassail, That toss the Bacchic branch,And slip your shaken music, An elfin avalanche;Come tell me, ...
Just this one day in all the year Let all be one, let all be dear; Wife, husband, child in ...
The dew lies heavy all around, Nor, till the sun shines, leaves the ground. Far into night we feasting sit; ...
et plus profonde, ou l'interet et l'avarice parlent moins haut que la raison, dans les instants de chagrin domestique, de ...
Ah, Posthumus! our years hence fly And leave no sound: nor piety, Or prayers, or vow Can keep the wrinkle ...
MONTANO, SILVIO, AND MIRTILLO, SHEPHERDS MON. Bad are the times. SIL. And worse than they are we. MON. Troth, bad ...
TO THE HONOURED MR ENDYMION PORTER, GROOM OF THE BED-CHAMBER TO HIS MAJESTY Sweet country life, to such unknown, Whose ...
Lord, Thou hast given me a cell Wherein to dwell; An little house, whose humble roof Is weather-proof; Under the ...
Whenas ye plaisaunt Aperille shoures have washed and purged awaye Ye poysons and ye rheums of earth to make a ...
Come, brothers, share the fellowship We celebrate to-night; There's grace of song on every lip And every heart is light! ...
Old King Cole Was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he He called for his pipe ...
Christmass is come and every hearth Makes room to give him welcome now Een want will dry its tears in ...
'Twas after dread Pultowa's day, When fortune left the royal Swede - Around a slaughtered army lay, No more to ...
Sir Walter Vivian all a summer's day Gave his broad lawns until the set of sun Up to the people: ...
To-night ungather'd let us leave This laurel, let this holly stand: We live within the stranger's land, And strangely falls ...
I have not brought my Odyssey With me here across the sea; But you'll remember, when I say How, when ...
Smith, great writer of stories, drank; found it immortalized his pen; Fused in his brain-pan, else a blank, heavens of ...
Of bosom friends I've had but seven, Despite my years are ripe; I hope they're now enjoying Heaven, Although they're ...
Chapter I. Once on a time, a Dawn, all red and bright Leapt on the conquered ramparts of the Night, ...
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