Grant’s Dirge (George Parsons Lathrop Poems)
IAh, who shall sound the hero's funeral march?And what shall be the music of his dirge?No single voice may chant ...
IAh, who shall sound the hero's funeral march?And what shall be the music of his dirge?No single voice may chant ...
The sea goes up; the sky comes down.Oh, can you spy the ancient town,-The granite hills so green and gray,That ...
Glimmers gray the leafless thicketClose beside my garden gate,Where, so light, from post to picketHops the sparrow, blithe, sedate;Who, with ...
When the leaves, by thousands thinned,A thousand times have whirled in the wind,And the moon, with hollow cheek,Staring from her ...
Soft-throated South, breathing of summer's ease(Sweet breath, whereof the violet's life is made!)Through lips moist-warm, as thou hadst lately stayed'Mong ...
Thou art my morning, twilight, noon, and eve,My summer and my winter, spring and fall;For Nature left on thee a ...
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