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VIII

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Letter VIII. From The Gander To The Turkey-Cock. (The Bird And Insects' Post-Office.) Robert Bloomfield	(CHARLES BLOOMFIELD.) Old friend, you certainly have merit; You really are a bird of spirit. I'm quite surprised, I must confess; I did not...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Lover's Gifts VIII: There Is Room for You Rabindranath Tagore	There is room for you. You are alone with your few sheaves of rice. My boat is crowded, it is heavily laden, but how can I turn you away? Your young...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Modern Love VIII: Yet It Was Plain She Struggled George Meredith	Yet it was plain she struggled, and that salt Of righteous feeling made her pitiful. Poor twisting worm, so queenly beautiful! Where came the...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet VIII Wilfrid Scawen Blunt	And so it was that, sitting ever thus Dumb to all speech of those that knew her woe And bare with her sole sorrow in the house, And ever watching...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Ode VIII: If Rightly Tuneful Bards Decide Mark Akenside	I. If rightly tuneful bards decide, If it be fix'd in love's decrees, That beauty ought not to be tried But by its native power to please, Then tell...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Ode VIII: On Leaving Holland Mark Akenside	I 1. Farewell to Leyden's lonely bound, The Belgian Muse's sober seat; Where dealing frugal gifts around To all the favorites at her feet, She trains...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Psalm VIII: O Lord, Our Lord Isaac Watts	O Lord, our Lord, how wondrous great Is thine exalted name! The glories of thy heav'nly state Let men and babes...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Quote VIII Michael Frederick Hall ~~~	"I have a lot to say, so I...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Satires of Circumstance in Fifteen Glimpses VIII: In the St Thomas Hardy	He enters, and mute on the edge of a chair Sits a thin-faced lady, a stranger there, A type of decayed gentility; And by some small signs he...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Song VIII: While Ye Deemed Him A-Sleeping William Morris	Love is enough: while ye deemed him a-sleeping, There were signs of his coming and sounds of his feet; His touch it was that would bring you to...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Sonnet Of Motherhood VIII Zora Bernice May Cross	Make me the melody of meeting palms, The roundelay of little running feet. Strike me a measure to a trembling sweet Of the mouth’s laughter and the...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Sonnet VIII Alan Seeger	Oft as by chance, a little while apart The pall of empty, loveless hours withdrawn, Sweet Beauty, opening on the impoverished heart, Beams like...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Sonnet VIII Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton	TO MY...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Sonnet VIII Charles Lamb	As when a child on some long winter's night Affrighted clinging to its Grandam's knees With eager wond'ring and perturb'd delight Listens strange...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Sonnet VIII Edmund Spenser	MOre then most faire, full of the liuing fire, Kindled aboue vnto the maker neere: no eies buy ioyes, in which al powers conspire, that to the world...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Sonnet VIII Robert Louis Stevenson	As Daniel, bird-alone, in that far land, Kneeling in fervent prayer, with heart-sick eyes Turned thro' the casement toward the westering skies; Or as...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Sonnet VIII Louise Labe	I live, I burn, I drown and I die I endure at once chill and cold; Life is too hard and too soft to hold; I am joyful and sad, don't ask me...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Sonnet VIII Elizabeth Barrett Browning	What can I give thee back, O liberal And princely giver, who hast brought the gold And purple of thine heart, unstained, untold, And laid them on the...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Sonnet VIII. Fernando Pessoa	How many masks wear we, and undermasks, Upon our countenance of soul, and when, If for self-sport the soul itself unmasks, Knows it the last mask off...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Sonnet VIII. To Mercy Samuel Taylor Coleridge	Not always should the tear's ambrosial dew Roll its soft anguish down thy furrowed cheek! Not always heaven-breathed tones of suppliance meek Beseem...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Sonnet VIII. To My Brothers John Keats	Small, busy flames play through the fresh laid coals, And their faint cracklings o'er our silence creep Like whispers of the household gods that...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Sonnet VIII. To Spring Charlotte Smith	AGAIN the wood and long-withdrawing vale In many a tint of tender green are drest, Where the young leaves, unfolding, scarce conceal Beneath their...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Sonnet VIII: Love's Lovers Dante Gabriel Rossetti	Some ladies love the jewels in Love's zone, And gold-tipped darts he hath for painless play In idle scornful hours he flings away; And some that...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Sonnet VIII: Love, Born In Greece Sir Philip Sidney	Love, born in Greece, of late fled from his native place, Forc'd by a tedious proof, that Turkish harden'd heart Is no fit mark to pierce with his...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)
Sonnet VIII: There's Nothing Grieves Me Michael Drayton	There's nothing grieves me, but that Age should haste, That in my days I may not see thee old, That where those two clear sparkling eyes are plac'd...	Rate it (0.00 / 0 votes)

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