The Station-Master Of Lone Prairie (Francis Bret Harte Poems)
An empty bench, a sky of grayest etching,A bare, bleak shed in blackest silhouette,Twelve years of platform, and before them ...
An empty bench, a sky of grayest etching,A bare, bleak shed in blackest silhouette,Twelve years of platform, and before them ...
1810As who, while erst the Achaians wall'd the shore, Stood Atlas-like before,A granite face against the Trojan sea Of foes ...
Ere yet upon the unhappy Arctic lands, In dying autumn, Erebus descends With the night's thousand hours, along ...
Oh, Poesy! exquisite gift,Thou art a magnet that shall liftMy gold from out the drossy rift.Thou art my soul's refulgent ...
When we two walk, my love, on the path The moon makes over the sea, To the ...
I am troubled to-night with a curious pain;It is not of the flesh, it is not of the brain,Nor yet ...
All the world was wearying,All the world was sad;Everything was shadow-filled;Things were going bad.Then a rumour stirred all heartsAs a ...
Before the Altar, bowed, he stands With empty hands; Upon it perfumed offerings burn Wreathing with smoke the sacrificial urn. ...
NOT in the world of light alone, Where God has built his blazing throne, Nor yet alone in earth below, ...
She ONLY to be twin elements of joy In this extravagance of Being, Love, Were our divided natures shaped in ...
MUSING on the roaring ocean, Which divides my love and me; Wearying heav'n in warm devotion, For his weal where'er ...
This English Thames is holier far than Rome, Those harebells like a sudden flush of sea Breaking across the woodland, ...
When the soft sweet wind o' the south went by, I dwelt in the light of a dark brown eye; ...
BOOK FIRST. I. ALL valor died not on the plains of Troy. Awake, my Muse, awake! be thine the joy ...
The Sun, who never stops to dine, Two hours had pass'd the mid-way line, And driving at his usual rate, ...
From noiseful arms, and acts of prowess done In tournament or tilt, Sir Percivale, Whom Arthur and his knighthood called ...
In the grey beginning of years, in the twilight of things that began, The word of the earth in the ...
Poussin! most pleasantly thy pictur'd scenes Beguile the lonely hour; I sit and gaze With lingering eye, till charmed FANCY ...
Glad as the weary traveller tempest-tost To reach secure at length his native coast, Who wandering long o'er distant lands ...
I'm wearied of wearying love, my friend, Of worry and strain and doubt; Before we begin, let us view the ...
Life, sometimes so wearying Is worth its weight in gold The experience of traveling Lends a wisdom that is old ...
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