David Mckee Wright Live Poems

  • 1.
    I came up to-night to the station, the tramp had been longish and cold,
    My swag ain't too heavy to carry, but then I begin to get old.
    I came through this way to the diggings -- how long will that be ago now?
    Thirty years! how the country has altered, and miles of it under the plough,
    ...
  • 2.
    Unstable dream, according to the place,
    Be steadfast once, or else at least be true.
    By tasted sweetness make me not to rue
    The sudden loss of thy false feignèd grace.
    ...
  • 3.
    My mother's maids, when they did sew and spin,
    They sang sometime a song of the field mouse,
    That, for because her livelood was but thin,

    ...
  • 4.
    Tagus, farewell! that westward with thy streams
    Turns up the grains of gold already tried
    With spur and sail, for I go seek the Thames
    Gainward the sun that shewth her wealthy pride,
    ...
  • 5.
    The longë love that in my thought doth harbour
    And in mine hert doth keep his residence,
    Into my face presseth with bold pretence
    And therein campeth, spreading his banner.
    ...
  • 6.
    I find no peace, and all my war is done.
    I fear and hope. I burn and freeze like ice.
    I fly above the wind, yet can I not arise;
    And nought I have, and all the world I season.
    ...
  • 7.
    Mine own John Poynz, since ye delight to know
    The cause why that homeward I me draw,
    And flee the press of courts, whereso they go,
    Rather than to live thrall under the awe
    ...
Total 7 Live Poems by David Mckee Wright

Top 10 most used topics by David Mckee Wright

Heart 12 Long 11 Pain 10 Plain 9 Mind 9 Love 9 I Love You 9 Good 8 Live 7 Great 7

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Poem of the day

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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