The Painter Of Florence (Ernest Jones Poems)
THERE'S a mansion old 'mid the hills of the west,So old, that men know not by whom it was built;But ...
THERE'S a mansion old 'mid the hills of the west,So old, that men know not by whom it was built;But ...
I. LINDSAY castle's jutted forth On the wild, old sounding sea,And a gallant race of the hardy North, ...
The nations are all calling To and fro, from strand to strand;Uniting in one army The slaves of ...
In a cottage on a moor Famine's feeble children cried;The frost knocked sharply at the door, And hunger ...
LEAWOOD HALL,A Chistmas Tale. IN a cottage on a moor Famine's feeble children cried;The frost knocked sharply at the ...
TO MY READERS,-MY Life has been a wild, strange life,Now lulled in love-now wrapt in strife;I've had my dreams as ...
The night had sunk along the city, It was a bleak and cheerless hour;The wild-winds sung their solemn ditty ...
OH! what is so blithe as through cornfields to roam, When the lark is in heaven and laughter on ...
Sons of freedom! break your slumbersThe day of glory's drawing nigh,Against us tyranny's red numbersRear their bloody banner high. ...
A CHILD of the hard-hearted world was I, And a worldling callous of heart,And eager to play with the ...
Come to the marriage-feast Where the glittering tables wait-Where the greatest shall be the least, And the least ...
FORTH to the fight! then shining sword of song! Sing, sing the toil, that makes the toiler strong. Sing, how ...
Gate!-that never wholly closes, Opening yet so oft in vain!Garden! full of thorny roses! ...
AIR-" THE BRAVE OLD OAK" A song to the men-the working men, Who long in their chains ...
WILD rider of grey clouds, beneath whose breath The stars dissolve in mist, or rain, or sleet;Who chariotest the ...
We are dead, and we are buried!Revolution's soul is tame!They are merry o'er our ashes,And our tyrants rule the same!But ...
In a wretched, lonely, desolate spotThat nursed and cherished and sheltered it not, In a cold and ...
In the morning's light advancing, Forward bounds a gallant steed,Deck'd with Beauty's goodly housing, Shod with Youth, Health, ...
Who is it rivets broken bands And stranger-hearts together,And builds with fast-decaying hands A home to last for ...
My life is but a toil of many woes, And keen excitement, wearing to the core;And fervently I hope ...
In the desert of life I found thee,In the wide, wide desert of life alone! The wilderness ...
Written in the Infirmary of Westminster Prison,during severe illness, November, 1849. We all have our allotted task; Their burden ...
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