Invitation (Aurobindo Ghose Poems)
With wind and the weather beating round me Up to the hill and the moorland I go.Who will ...
With wind and the weather beating round me Up to the hill and the moorland I go.Who will ...
Dear my lady, when the woods Wore old Autumn's russet crown,Dost remember how thou said'st Love had surely eyes of ...
Hills of dear delight,Prompting my dreams that used to be,I know you are waiting me still to-nightBy the Unika Range ...
THERE'S a grey old church on a wind-swept hill Where three bent yew trees cower, The gipsy roses ...
Those men build many houses: They dig the earth, and they build; They cut down the trees, and they build; ...
Let our last hour wonderingly Upon some lonesome shore he spent, 'Mid whisperings of wind and sea, Hinting a god's ...
She knows a cheap release From worry and from pain- The cowboys spur their horses Over the unending plain. The ...
The white moth to the closing bine, The bee to the opened clover, And the gipsy blood to the gipsy ...
(an Incident of Froom Valley) "THY husband--poor, poor Heart!--is dead-- Dead, out by Moreford Rise; A bull escaped the barton-shed, ...
(at a Cathedral Service) THAT from this bright believing band An outcast I should be, That faiths by which my ...
The blast from Freedom's Northern hills, upon its Southern way, Bears greeting to Virginia from Massachusetts Bay: No word of ...
(Newdigate prize poem recited in the Sheldonian Theatre Oxford June 26th, 1878. To my friend George Fleming author of 'The ...
Nay, let us walk from fire unto fire, From passionate pain to deadlier delight, - I am too young to ...
Set in this stormy Northern sea, Queen of these restless fields of tide, England! what shall men say of thee, ...
Go thou and seek the House of Prayer! I to the Woodlands wend, and there In lovely Nature see the ...
Gold! We leapt from our benches. Gold! We sprang from our stools. Gold! We wheeled in the furrow, fired with ...
Along the wind-swept platform, pinched and white, The travellers stand in pools of wintry light, Offering themselves to morn's long, ...
I Because the night was falling warm and still Upon a golden day at April's end, I thought; I will ...
Ariel to Miranda: -- Take This slave of music, for the sake Of him who is the slave of thee; ...
Night is on the downland, on the lonely moorland, On the hills where the wind goes over sheep-bitten turf, Where ...
How the Wings Were Made From many morning-glories That in an hour will fade, From many ...
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