Aurora (Archbishop William Alexander Poems)
O happy Tithon! if thou know'st thy hap, And valuest thy wealth, as I my want, Then need'st thou not-which ...
O happy Tithon! if thou know'st thy hap, And valuest thy wealth, as I my want, Then need'st thou not-which ...
'Hold not Thy peace at my tears'What is the saddest, sweetest, lowest soundNearest akin to perfect silence? NotThe delicate whisper ...
Wherefore his picture evermore was huedOver with colours, peradventure fine,But mixed not for a Heav'n-conceived design.A creed that like the ...
Prayer is not eloquence nor measured toneNor memory musical of periods fair.The son forlorn forgetteth half his prayer. Faith sighs ...
O that a fortnight's Truce of God might sound!O that this land of eloquence and witIn the rich tones that ...
A hot day in September. A white mistClung to the vale, and up the hill a blur,As of thin smoke, ...
Beneath the couchant lion, grey and grim,We lit upon the last of state romance,The last of chivalrous circumstance;The Champions-each his ...
The morn is cold. A whiteness newly broughtLightly and loosely powders every place,The panes among yon trees that eastward faceFlash ...
Methought a dear one came from death's retreat:The pale presentment of his face was thin.Ruin sat greyly there, a shadow ...
Sensuous, some say, a very amoristIn spiritual spheres of mystic sweets-Drowsy with incense-fumes, a feebler KeatsWho made the realm of ...
Then follow'd something more. A little spaceThe sea ceas'd working. Thereon dimlythroughThe darkness upon John's weak soul there grewA sad, ...
He lived to learn, to watch his knowledge grow,Nightly to question what advance preciseTwelve hours had given to that tide ...
This, this is what I love, and what is this?I ask'd the beautiful earth, who said-'Not I.'I ask'd the depths, ...
Each good and perfect gift man's heart to moveComes from the heart before it leaves the hand,At once inspired and ...
Spiritual ocean, measurelessly broad!Who loves thee once truly shall evermoreBe drawn to thee, fair sea without a shore!Surely and indeclinably, ...
What voice is that which o'er the ocean,Through what is lit and what obscure no less,Night's coruscations and its darknesses,Still ...
Sweet watcher by the wounded; undefiledPitier, in whom earth's fallen might beholdThe crystal's purity without its cold;Pale, passionate weeper o'er ...
What love I when I love Thee, O my God?Not corporal beauty, nor the limb of snow,Nor of loved light ...
If thou hast merely art mosaicwiseTo cramp just fourteen lines with rhymes just five;If thou our Shakespeare's sonnet half despiseBecause ...
Child, with the soft hymn by a father's bedSung soothing; maiden, whose bright face did stirAll our rough England with ...
Among earth's poets certain known of fewPass into deathlessness o'er death's frontiers,Unpraised, unprized, unlaurell'd of their peers.Yet in time's patient ...
So when he turned Evangelist, see what came,-Writ on his page were stories, with sweet tearsBaptized by all the yearnings ...
Yet after all we cry, Shall God deviseNo way to bring His banish'd ones again?Shall there not some aspersion of ...
Quickly they vanish to a land unlit,Things for which no man cares to smile or mourn,Forgotten in the place where ...
Yet with what art, thro' what enormous space,With what innumerous threads how deftly plann'd,Silverly separate in the subtle hand,He winds ...
Beside the dead man two veil'd women sit;All the night long over the catafalqueTwelve tapers burn; from many a precious ...
Sadly, O sage, thine images are told.Think we of cornfields, where again there fallAt Memory's touch, that is so magical,All ...
So let a 'favourable speed' assistThe keel that bears her yacht across the sea,Let there no spindrift of the salt ...
All the sweet summer azure is not fled-What hath the woodland, then, to do with grief?The apparition of a yellow ...
But ere heaven's cressets burn along its plain,The Master comes. And as a man, all nightLull'd in a room full ...
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