The Leaning Elm (Francis Brett Young Poems)
Before my window, in days of winter hoarHuddled a mournful wood:Smooth pillars of beech, domed chestnut, sycamore,In stony sleep they ...
Before my window, in days of winter hoarHuddled a mournful wood:Smooth pillars of beech, domed chestnut, sycamore,In stony sleep they ...
Arthur is gone . . . Tristram in CareolSleeps, with a broken sword - and Yseult sleepsBeside him, where the ...
Were there lovers in the lanes of Atlantis:Meeting lips and twining fingersIn the mild Atlantis springtime? How ...
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