The Poet’s Ministers (Frances Fuller Victor Poems)
Poet Oh, my soul! the draught is bitter Yet it must be sweetly drunken: Heart and ...
Poet Oh, my soul! the draught is bitter Yet it must be sweetly drunken: Heart and ...
O, ye Athenians, drunken with self-praise, What dreams I had of you, beside the sea, In far ...
Come out into the garden, Maud; In whispered tones young Percy said: He but repeated what ...
You say there's a Being all-loving, Whose nature is justice and pity; Could you say where you ...
Tell me, mother Nature! tender yet stern mother! In what nomenclature (fitlier than another) Can I laud and ...
Sweet, kiss my eyelids close, and let me lie, On this old-fashioned sofa, in the dim And purple ...
Dull, yellow, heavy, lustreless-- With less of radiance than the burnished tress, Crumpled on Beauty's forehead: cloddish, cold, ...
Nay, Hylas, I have come To where life's landscape takes a western slope, And breezes from the occidental ...
My steps are turned away; Yet my eyes linger still, On their beloved hill, ...
Do thy chamber windows open east, Beloved, as did ours of old? And do you stand when ...
I lay me down straight, with closed eyes, And pale hands folded across my breast, Thinking, unpained, ...
Do you hear the women praying, oh my brothers? Do you hear what words they say? These, ...
The crimson color lays As bright as beauty's blush along the West; And a warm golden ...
I cannot find the meaning out That lies in wrong and pain and strife; I know not ...
There sinks the sun; like cavalier of old, Servant of crafty Spain, He flaunts his banner, barred ...
Sphinx, down whose rugged face The sliding centuries their furrows cleave By sun and frost and cloud-burst; scarce ...
The river on the east Ripples its azure flood within my sight; And, darting from the ...
What tellest thou to heaven, Thou royal tropic tree? At morn or noon or even, Proud dweller ...
One evening as I sat beside the sea, A little rippling wave stole up to me, And whispered ...
November came that day, And all the air was gray With delicate mists, blown down ...
In the deep woods of Mexico, Where screams the "painted paraquet," And mocking-birds flit to and fro, ...
There's a little bird with a wondrous song-- A little bird that every one knows-- (Though it sings ...
Said one to me: "I seem to be-- Like a bird blown out to sea, In the hurricane's ...
Behold my soul? She sits so far above you Your wildest dream has never glanced so high; ...
O, Christ, to-night I bring A sad, weak heart, to lay before thy feet; Too sad, ...
O wild November wind, blow back to me The withered leaves, that drift adown the past; Waft ...
I leant above your chair last night, And on your brow once and again, I pressed a ...
Pray do not take the kiss again I risked so much in getting, Nor let my blushes ...
I sang a song of olden times, Sitting upon our sacred hill-- Sang it to feel ...
Under the pines sat a young man and maiden, "Love," said he; "life is sweet, think'st thou not so?" ...
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