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To My Mother Earth

© George MacDonald

O Earth, Earth, Earth,
I am dying for love of thee,
For thou hast given me birth,
And thy hands have tended me.

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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: V

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

ON THE POWER OF HER BEAUTY
I am lighthearted now. An hour ago
There was a tempest in my heaven, a flame
Of sullen lightning under a bent brow

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The Lost Soul

© George MacDonald

Look! look there!

Send your eyes across the gray

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Devotion. -- A Vision

© Gerald Griffin

Methought I roved on shining walks,

'Mid odorous groves and wreathed bowers.

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The Fallen Elm

© Alfred Austin

The popinjay screamed from tree to tree,
Then was lost in the burnished leaves;
The sky was as blue as a southern sea,
And the swallow came back to the eaves.

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The Sensitive Plant

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

PART 1.
A Sensitive Plant in a garden grew,
And the young winds fed it with silver dew,
And it opened its fan-like leaves to the light.
And closed them beneath the kisses of Night.

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The House Of Falling Leaves

© William Stanley Braithwaite

If change and fate and hapless circumstance
May baffle and perplex the moaning sea,
And day and night in alternate advance
Still hold the primal Reasoning in fee,
Cannot my Grief be strong enough to chance
My voice across the tide I cannot see?

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Of The Three Seekers

© William Morris

Whither away to seek good cheer?
“Ah me!” said the third, “that my love were anear!
Were the world as little as it is wide,
In a happy house should ye abide.
Were the world as kind as it is hard,
Ye should behold a fair reward.”

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The Cottage On The Hill

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

ON a steep hillside, to all airs that blow,
Open, and open to the varying sky,
Our cottage homestead, smiling tranquilly,
Catches morn's earliest and eve's latest glow;

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Letters To The Roman Friend

© Joseph Brodsky

From Martial

  Now is windy and the waves are cresting over

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How John Quit The Farm

© James Whitcomb Riley

Nobody on the old farm here but Mother, me and John,
  Except, of course, the extry he'p when harvest-time come on--
  And then, I want to say to you, we _needed_ he'p about,
  As you'd admit, ef you'd a-seen the way the crops turned out!

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The Fate of the Explorers (A Fragment)

© Henry Kendall

Through that night he uttered little, rambling were the words he spoke:
And he turned and died in silence, when the tardy morning broke.
Many memories come together whilst in sight of death we dwell,
Much of sweet and sad reflection through the weary mind must well.
As those long hours glided past him, till the east with light was fraught,
Who may know the mournful secret — who can tell us what he thought?

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The Gold Star

© Edgar Albert Guest

The star upon their service flag has changed to gleaming gold;
It speaks no more of hope and life, as once it did of old,
But splendidly it glistens now for every eye to see
And softly whispers: "Here lived one who died for liberty.

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Faith And Despondency

© Emily Jane Brontë

"The winter wind is loud and wild,
Come close to me, my darling child;
Forsake thy books, and mateless play;
And, while the night is gathering gray,
We'll talk its pensive hours away;-

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Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey

© William Wordsworth

Five years have past; five summers, with the length

Of five long winters! and again I hear

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Aurora Leigh: Book Fourth

© Elizabeth Barrett Browning


  She, at that,
Looked blindly in his face, as when one looks
Through driving autumn-rains to find the sky.
He went on speaking.

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The World

© Christina Georgina Rossetti

By day she woos me, soft, exceeding fair:

 But all night as the moon so changeth she;

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The Last Wooin

© George MacDonald

"O lat me in, my bonny lass!
It's a lang road ower the hill,
And the flauchterin snaw begud to fa'
On the brig ayont the mill!"

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Continent's End

© Robinson Jeffers

At the equinox when the earth was veiled in a late rain, wreathed
with wet poppies, waiting spring,
The ocean swelled for a far storm and beat its boundary, the
ground-swell shook the beds of granite.

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The Task: Book V. -- The Winter Morning Walk

© William Cowper

‘Tis morning; and the sun, with ruddy orb

Ascending, fires the horizon; while the clouds,