Metabole. (Alfred Castner King Poems)
AN APOSTROPHE TO THE MOON.O, silvery moon, fair mistress of the night,Thou mellow, ever vaccilating orb,How many eons of unmeasured ...
AN APOSTROPHE TO THE MOON.O, silvery moon, fair mistress of the night,Thou mellow, ever vaccilating orb,How many eons of unmeasured ...
I stood at sunrise, on the topmost partOf lofty mountain, massively sublime;A pinnacle of trachyte, seamed and scarredBy countless generations' ...
I fear the palace of the rich, I fear the hovel of the poor;Though fortified by moat and ditch, The ...
When close by my bed the Death Angel shall stand And deliver his summons, at last;When my brow feels the ...
O, a beautiful thing is the flower that fadeth, And perishing, smiles on the chill autumn wind;A sweet desolation its ...
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