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 upon a crowded thoroughfare,Within a city's confines, where were metAll classes and conditions, and surveyed,From a secluded niche ...
DYING THOUGHTS.As Life's receding sunset fades And night descends,I calmly watch the gathering shades,As darkness stealthily invades ...
Within the precincts of a hospital, I wandered in a sympathetic mood;Where face to face with wormwood and with gall, ...
On the margin of a lakelet, In a rugged mountain clime,Where precipice and pinnacle Of countenance sublime,Cast their weird, austere ...
They cannot see the wreaths we place Upon the silent bier,They cannot see the tear-stained face, Nor feel the scalding ...
Think not that the heart is devoid of emotion, Because of a countenance rugged and stern,The bosom may hide the ...
Within the wind, my untaught ear The voice of Deity can hear,And in the fleeting cloud discern His movements, vast ...
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