A Waking Sun (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
We are watching day by day hour by hour watching a waking sun the faces of the flowers turning, yearning ...
We are watching day by day hour by hour watching a waking sun the faces of the flowers turning, yearning ...
It will surely come growing in ways mysterious unknowable, how the seed becomes the grain hidden first underground then in ...
new shoots, yearning to grow to gather in March sun, warmth after winter's slumber rising from the good soil the ...
Oh to be like John, John Wesley our founder, the beginning of the faith to see the miners, the men ...
Eager, poised and ready unfurling in the hot July sun wanting, needing to join her sisters and brothers in the ...
Krinken was a little child,-- It was summer when he smiled. Oft the hoary sea and grim Stretched its white ...
Oh, may I join the choir invisible Of those immortal dead who live again In minds made better by their ...
In town to sell his fruit, he saw her- Françoise in her summer slacks- turning to him, coming back to ...
Knight-errant of the Never-ending Quest, And Minstrel of the Unfulfilled Desire; For ever tuning thy frail earthly lyre To some ...
Mother of all the high-strung poets and singers departed, Mother of all the grass that weaves over their graves the ...
I PRELUDE Daughter of Psyche, pledge of that last night When, pierced with pain and bitter-sweet delight, She knew her ...
I think of thee, when golden sunbeams shimmer Across the sea; And when the waves reflect the moon's pale glimmer, ...
I like the old house tolerably well, Where I must dwell Like a familiar gnome; And yet I never shall ...
In Memory of John Keats By the Aurelian Wall, Where the long shadows of the centuries fall From Caius Cestius' ...
The fragrance of the pink lotus fails, the jade mat hints of autumn. Softly I unfasten my silk cloak, Who ...
The West Village by then was changing; before long the rundown brownstones at its farthest edge would have slipped into ...
Since all, that beat about in Nature's range, Or veer or vanish ; why should'st thou remain The only constant ...
I How warm this woodland wild Recess ! Love surely hath been breathing here ; And this sweet bed of ...
AY, 'twas here, on this spot, In that summer of yore, Atalanta did not Vote my presence a bore, Nor ...
I There was an ancient City, stricken down With a strange frenzy, and for many a day They paced from ...
I sold her bed for a song. A song of yearning like an orphan's. Or the one knives carve into ...
Blake saw a treeful of angels at Peckham Rye, And his hands could lay hold on the tiger's terrible heart. ...
up or down from the infinite C E N T E R B R I M M I N G ...
1 They that in play can do the thing they would, Having an instinct throned in reason's place, --And every ...
In autumn moonlight, when the white air wan Is fragrant in the wake of summer hence, 'Tis sweet to sit ...
Lough, vessel, plough the British main, Seek the free ocean's wider plain; Leave English scenes and English skies, Unbind, dissever ...
Cold in the earth-and the deep snow piled above thee, Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave! Have I ...
They sleep within. . . . I cower to the earth, I waking, I only. High and cold thou dreamest, ...
When sorrow lays us low for a second we are saved by humble windfalls of the mindfulness or memory: the ...
I. She should never have looked at me If she meant I should not love her! There are plenty ... ...
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