Up The River (Bessie Rayner Parkes Poems)
TIS April! 'Tis a holyday! and they shut close yester-even The golden gates of Sydenham with the clang of iron ...
TIS April! 'Tis a holyday! and they shut close yester-even The golden gates of Sydenham with the clang of iron ...
PEACE on the hush'd earth fell at eventide, As dew from heaven upon the thirsty grass; No sound unmusical broke ...
THE sultry sun Burn'd hotter in December than the skies Of our far land in June; within a bower, Where ...
WE walk in mysteries howsoe'er we tread, And none less awful that we see them not, Or that our solemn ...
THE palms are yellowing in the Autumn heat, I hate the ripple of that tideless sea, But worse the line ...
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