Charles Hamilton Musgrove Cold Poems

  • 1.
    I.

    With the light just quenched in their eyes
    They lie in their graves 'neath the skies,
    ...
  • 2.
    Here is a tale the North Wind sang to me:
    Hell hath set Mammon o'er a frozen land,
    Crowned him with gold, put gold into his hand,
    And men forsake their God to bow the knee
    ...
  • 3.
    I.

    Eagle-heart, child-heart, bonnie lad o' dreams,
    Far away thy soul hears passion-throated Art
    ...
  • 4.
    The poet painted a woman's soul,
    Human, trusting and kind,
    And then he drew the soul of a man,
    Brutal and base and blind;
    ...
  • 5.
    The Sky Line.

    Like black fangs in a cruel ogre's jaw
    The grim piles lift against the sunset sky;
    ...
  • 6.
    An Earthworm once loved a Star. In the hush of the summer night,
    He lay quite close to the ground and gazed on its golden light;
    He looked from his house of clay, and dreamed of wonderful things,
    Till, lo! (as he thought) his longing brought forth miraculous wings.
    ...
  • 7.
    You are blue, you are blue like the sky,
    Cruel and cold and blue,
    And I turn from you, voiceless sea,
    To a sky that is voiceless, too.
    ...
  • 8.
    They were three old men with hoary hair
    And beards of wintry gray,
    And they digged a grave in the yellow soil,
    And they crooned this song as they plied their toil,
    ...
  • 9.
    She comes not with the conscious grace
    Of gentle, winsome womanhood,
    Nor yet, withal, the flaunting face
    Of men and women understood,
    ...
Total 9 Cold Poems by Charles Hamilton Musgrove

Top 10 most used topics by Charles Hamilton Musgrove

Soul 22 Face 12 Hear 12 Voice 11 White 11 Long 9 Gold 9 Deep 9 Dust 9 Cold 9

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Andrew Lang Poem
Ballade Of The Midnight Forest
 by Andrew Lang

Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,
Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree;
The west wind breathes upon them, pure and cold,
And wolves still dread Diana roaming free
In secret woodland with her company.
'Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her rite
When now the wolds are bathed in silver light,
And first the moonrise breaks the dusky grey,
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