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/ page 29 of 246 /The Homestead
© John Greenleaf Whittier
AGAINST the wooded hills it stands,
Ghost of a dead home, staring through
Its broken lights on wasted lands
Where old-time harvests grew.
A Last Confession
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Our Lombard country-girls along the coast
Wear daggers in their garters: for they know
The Angel In The House. Book II. Canto V.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
III The Heart's Prophecies
Be not amazed at life; 'tis still
The mode of God with His elect
Their hopes exactly to fulfil,
In times and ways they least expect.
We too shall Sleep
© Archibald Lampman
Not, not for thee,
Belovèd child, the burning grasp of life
Shall bruise the tender soul. The noise, and strife,
And clamor of midday thou shalt not see;
The Poet
© Madison Julius Cawein
He stands above all worldly schism,
And, gazing over life's abysm,
Beholds within the starry range
Of heaven laws of death and change,
That, through his soul's prophetic prism,
Are turned to rainbows wild and strange.
Where Home Was
© Augusta Davies Webster
'TWAS yesterday; 'twas long ago:
And for this flaunting grimy street,
Alma; or, The Progress of the Mind. In Three Cantos. - Canto II.
© Matthew Prior
Richard, quoth Matt, these words of thine
Speak something sly and something fine;
But I shall e'en resume my theme,
However thou may'st praise or blame.
Wings
© Katharine Lee Bates
GRAY gulls that wheeled and dipped and rose
Where tossing crests like Alpine snows
Eternity Of Love Protested
© Thomas Carew
How ill doth he deserve a lover's name,
Whose pale weak flame
Senlin: A Biography Pt 02: His Futile Preoccupations
© Conrad Aiken
Vine leaves tap my window,
Dew-drops sing to the garden stones,
The robin chips in the chinaberry tree
Repeating three clear tones.
Ned the Larrikin
© Henry Kendall
A SONG that is bitter with griefa ballad as pale as the light
That comes with the fall of the leaf, I sing to the shadows to-night.
The Little Fauns To Proserpine
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
BROWNER than the hazel-husk, swifter than the wind,
Though you turn from heath and hill, we are hard behind,
Singing, "Ere the sorrows rise, ere the gates unclose
Bind above your wistful eyes the memory of a rose."
The Great Carbuncle
© Sylvia Plath
We came over the moor-top
Through air streaming and green-lit,
Stone farms foundering in it,
Valleys of grass altering
In a light neither dawn
The Wonder-Working Magician - Act III
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
DEMON. Why, how is this, that using your free-will
More than my precept meant,
Say for what end, what object, what intent,
Through ignorance or boldness can it be,
You thus come forth the sun's bright face to see?
The Ring And The Book - Chapter III - The Other Half-Rome
© Robert Browning
ANOTHER DAY that finds her living yet,
Little Pompilia, with the patient brow
To-----
© Muriel Stuart
Between two common days this day was hung
When Love went to the ending that was his;
His seamless robe was rent, his bow was wrong,
He took at last the sponge's bitter kiss.
Italy : 19. Foscari
© Samuel Rogers
Let us lift up the curtain, and observe
What passes in that chamber. Now a sigh,
And now a groan is heard. Then all is still.
Twenty are sitting as in judgement there;