Sonnet LXXI. (Charlotte Smith Poems)
Written at Weymouth in winter. THE chill waves whiten in the sharp North-east;Cold, cold the night-blast comes, with sullen sound,And ...
Written at Weymouth in winter. THE chill waves whiten in the sharp North-east;Cold, cold the night-blast comes, with sullen sound,And ...
UPWARD we went by fields of asphodel,Leaving Ortygia's moat-bound walls below;By orchards, where the wind-flowers' drifted snowLay lightly heaped upon ...
This beauty is vain, this, born to be wasted, Poured on the ground like water, spilled, and by no man ...
As I look from the isle, o'er its billows of green, To the billows of foam-crested blue, Yon bark, that ...
On Tiber's banks, Tiber, whose waters glide In slow meanders down to Gaigra's side; And circling all the horrid mountain ...
' SISTER, you've sat there all the day, Come to the hearth awhile; The wind so wildly sweeps away, The ...
And the first grey of morning fill'd the east, And the fog rose out of the Oxus stream. But all ...
SPONTANEOUS me, Nature, The loving day, the mounting sun, the friend I am happy with, The arm of my friend ...
Part I On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and ...
The wind's way in the deep sky's hollow None may measure, as none can say How the heart in her ...
Am I not he that hath made thee and begotten thee, I, God, the spirit of man? Wherefore now these ...
Press'd by the Moon, mute arbitress of tides, While the loud equinox its power combines, The sea no more its ...
Faint gleams the evening radiance thro' the sky, The sober twilight dimly darkens round; In short quick circles the shrill ...
I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the ...
I SHALL cry God to give me a broken foot. I shall ask for a scar and a slashed nose. ...
Part 1 WHAT dire Offence from am'rous Causes springs, What mighty Contests rise from trivial Things, I sing -- This ...
Not with more glories, in th' etherial plain, The sun first rises o'er the purpled main, Than, issuing forth, the ...
The horizons ring me like faggots, Tilted and disparate, and always unstable. Touched by a match, they might warm me, ...
I do not want a plain box, I want a sarcophagus With tigery stripes, and a face on it Round ...
The earth grows white with harvest; all day long The sickles gleam, until the darkness weaves Her web of silence ...
First light. This misted field is the world, that man slipping the greased bolt back and forth, that man tunneled ...
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