The Finding Of The Book (Archbishop William Alexander Poems)
The enchanted island rose before me, drawnMore beautiful than words of mine may reach;It lay magnificent in a magic dawn,And ...
The enchanted island rose before me, drawnMore beautiful than words of mine may reach;It lay magnificent in a magic dawn,And ...
AN ARMENIAN LEGEND'Tis sunset, and the wind is blowing fair;Her anchor soon the good ship will be weighing,Toward the cross ...
She is so little-in her hand a rose;A stern duenna watches where she goes.What sees she? Ah, she knows not-the ...
GROWTH AND OVERGROWTHI: GROWTH Oft have I mused what use the ancients madeOf solemn service and of stately form,On what ...
Prayer is not eloquence nor measured toneNor memory musical of periods fair.The son forlorn forgetteth half his prayer. Faith sighs ...
The morn is cold. A whiteness newly broughtLightly and loosely powders every place,The panes among yon trees that eastward faceFlash ...
Sensuous, some say, a very amoristIn spiritual spheres of mystic sweets-Drowsy with incense-fumes, a feebler KeatsWho made the realm of ...
Beside the dead man two veil'd women sit;All the night long over the catafalqueTwelve tapers burn; from many a precious ...
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