The Profession. A Sketch (Alaric Alexander Watts Poems)
On Santa Croce's golden-pillared shrine, A thousand tapers pour their blended rays In one rich tide of radiance. Like a ...
On Santa Croce's golden-pillared shrine, A thousand tapers pour their blended rays In one rich tide of radiance. Like a ...
'Tis now that softening hour When love hath deepest power, To stir the fond heart with its dreams of delight; ...
Sweet flower! with flowers I strew thy narrow bed! Sweets to the sweet! Farewell! ~ Shakespeare. A cloud is ...
By foreign hands thy dying eyes were closed; By foreign hands thy decent limbs composed; By foreign hands thy humble ...
HE left his home with a bounding heart, For the world was all before him; And he felt it ...
Murmurings from within Were heard, sonorous cadences, whereby To his belief the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea. ...
It is the same clear dazzling scene, Perhaps the grass is scarce as green; Perhaps the river's troubled voice, Does ...
Meet me at sunset, the hour we love best, Ere day's last crimson blushes have died in the west; When ...
The present moment's all our own, The next, who ever saw! ~ Mickle. Come, fill me up a brimming cup, ...
I've roamed the wide world over, From Indus to the Pole; I've been a general lover, And loved with all ...
Thou hast flashed on my sight, Like a spirit of love, In my sorrow's deep night, From the regions above! ...
Yes, Desolation, on her viewless wing, Even now, perhaps, is speeding with the blast In deathful haste;-with angry visiting The ...
Never did music sink into my soul So ??~silver sweet,??T as when thy first weak wail On my 'rapt ear ...
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