November (Robert Nichols Poems)
As I walk the misty hillAll is languid, fogged, and still;Not a note of any birdNor any motion's hint is ...
As I walk the misty hillAll is languid, fogged, and still;Not a note of any birdNor any motion's hint is ...
1.In the Grass: Halt by the WaysideIn my tired, helpless bodyI feel my sunk heart ache;But suddenly, loudlyThe far, the ...
The battery grides and jingles,Mile succeeds to mile;Shaking the noonday sunshineThe guns lunge out awhile,And then are still awhile.We amble ...
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