One Day And Another: A Lyrical Eclogue – Part I (Madison Julius Cawein Poems)
LATE SPRING _The mottled moth at eventide Beats glimmering wings against the pane; The slow, sweet lily opens wide, White in the dusk like ...
LATE SPRING _The mottled moth at eventide Beats glimmering wings against the pane; The slow, sweet lily opens wide, White in the dusk like ...
He? why, a tall Franconian strong and young, Brown as a walnut the first frost hath hulled; A soul of full endeavor ...
I met him here at Ammendorf one Spring. It was the end of April and the Harz, Veined to their ruin-crested summits, ...
Not far from here, it lies beyond That low-hilled belt of woods. We'll take This unused lane where brambles make A wall of ...
LATE AUTUMN _They who die young are blest.-- Should we not envy such? They are Earth's happiest, God-loved and favored much!-- They who die young ...
From the terrace here, where the hills indent, You can see the uttermost battlement Of the castle there; the Cliffords' home; Where the ...
IThe hills are full of propheciesAnd ancient voices of the dead;Of hidden shapes that no man sees,Pale, visionary presences,That speak ...
_Year 13--._ Barbican, bartizan, battlement, With the Abergavenny mountains blent, Look, from the Raglan tower of Gwent, My lord Hugh Clifford's ancient home Shows, clear ...
IGREEN, watery jets of light let throughThe rippling foliage drenched with dew;And golden glimmers, warm and dim,That in the vistaed ...
Wild ridge on ridge the wooded hills arise,Between whose breezy vistas gulfs of skiesPilot great clouds like towering argosies,And hawk ...
I. SPRING ON THE HILLSAh, shall I follow, on the hills,The Spring, as wild wings follow?Where wild-plum trees make wan ...
During the siege of Bryan's Station, Kentucky, August 16, 1782, NicholasTomlinson and Thomas Bell, two inhabitants of the Fort, undertook ...
'Neath saffron stars and satin skies, dark-blue, Between dim sylvan isles, a happy two. We sailed, and from the siren-haunted shore, All mystic ...
I. The quickening East climbs to yon star, That, cradled, rocks herself in morn; The liquid silver broad'ning far Dawn drencheth cliff, holt, down ...
I. O tear-eyed goddess of the marble brow, Who showerest snows of tresses on the night Of anguished temples! lonely watcher, thou Who bendest ...
I Now is it as if Spring had never been, And Winter but a memory and dream, Here where the Summer stands, her ...
Pale as a star that shines through rain Her face was seen at the window-pane, Her sad, frail face that watched in ...
INSPIRATION. All who have toiled for Art, who've won or lost, Sat equal priests at her high Pentecost; Only the chrism and sacrament ...
IIt is not early spring and yetOf bloodroot blooms along the stream,And blotted banks of violet,My heart will dream.Is it ...
Let us go far from here!Here there is sadness in the early year:Here sorrow waits where joy went laughing late:The ...
I remember, when a child,How within the April wildOnce I walked with MysteryIn the groves of Arcady….Through the boughs, before, ...
I. When I fare forth to kiss the eyes of Spring, On ways, which arch gold sunbeams and pearl buds Embraced, two whispers ...
On southern winds shot through with amber light, Breeding soft balm, and clothed in cloudy white, The lily-fingered Spring came o'er the ...
I oft have net thee, Autumn, wandering Beside a misty stream, thy locks flung wild; Thy cheeks a hectic flush more fair ...
Dormered and verandaed, cool,Locust-girdled, on the hill;Stained with weather-wear, and dull-Streak'd with lichens; every sillThresholding the beautiful;I can see it ...
I. First of the insect choir, in the spring We hear his faint voice fluttering in the grass, Beneath some blossom's rosy covering Or ...
I look upon my lady's face, And, in the world about me, see No face like hers in any place: _Therefore it is ...
Behold the blossom-bosomed Day again,With all the star-white Hours in her train,Laughs out of pearl-lights through a golden ray,That, leaning ...
IWhen I go forth to greet the glad-faced Spring, Just at the time of opening apple-buds,When brooks are laughing, winds are ...
IHe was not learned in any art;But Nature led him by the hand;And spoke her language to his heartSo he ...
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