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Read Ebook: Gas and Petroleum Engines by Graffigny H De Henry Elliott Athol Garnet Translator
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Ebook has 117 lines and 5790 words, and 3 pages
AFFINITIES 58
TRANSFIGURATION 59
ONE WAY OF SPRING 60
FOR A SEQUESTERED LADY 61
HERITAGE 63
"SHIPPING NEWS" 64
ARTICULATION 65
MOONFLOWERS 66
CHALLENGE 67
BEFORE SPRING 68
MOONS KNOW NO TIME 69
MY NEIGHBOUR 70
AT THE NEXT TABLE 71
SALVAGE 72
IN A GIRL'S SCHOOL 73
AT ELSINORE 74
TO WILLIAM GRIFFITH 75
REVELATION 76
DISCOVERY 77
FOR BOB: A DOG 78
IN SUMMER 79
SURVIVAL 80
NOMENCLATURE 81
TO ONE RETURNED FROM A JOURNEY 82
ATTENDANTS 83
RENDEZVOUS 84
SONNETS FROM A HOSPITAL 85
THIS LANE IN MAY 89
FUGITIVE 90
AN OLD GARDENER 91
THE VEIL 92
THE YEAR IS OLD 93
MARINERS 94
AN ABANDONED INN 95
PRONE 96
REVIVAL 97
IMPOSTOR 98
SNOW DUSK 99
MOOD 100
SHIPS IN HARBOUR 101
SHIPS IN HARBOUR
WOODEN SHIPS
They are remembering forests where they grew,-- The midnight quiet, and the giant dance; And all the murmuring summers that they knew Are haunting still their altered circumstance. Leaves they have lost, and robins in the nest, Tug of the goodly earth denied to ships, These, and the rooted certainties, and rest,-- To gain a watery girdle at the hips.
Only the wind that follows ever aft, They greet not as a stranger on their ways; But this old friend, with whom they drank and laughed, Sits in the stern and talks of other days When they had held high bacchanalias still, Or dreamed among the stars on some tall hill.
OCTOBER DAY-MOON
Loosed from her secret moorings, The thin and silver moon, Floats wide above these oceans Of yellow afternoon,-- Who slipped her fragile cables, And blew to sea too soon.
She bears no bales--but wonder, Not anything of note: How should she, being merely A slender petal-boat?... But rated in the shipping: The dearest tramp afloat.
A GARDEN WALL
The Roman wall was not more grave than this, That has no league at all with great affairs, That knows no ruder hands than clematis, No louder blasts than blowing April airs. Yet, with a grey solemnity it broods, Above the walk where simple folk go past, And in its crannies keeps their transient moods, Holding their careless words unto the last.
The rains of summer, and the creeping vine That season after season clings in trust, And shivered poppies red as Roman wine,-- These things at last will haunt its crumbled dust-- Not dreams of empires shattered where they lie, But children's laughter, birds, and bits of sky.
NAPOLEON IN HADES
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