Poetry Books by Wilfrid Wilson Gibson

Wilfrid Wilson Gibson Books, Wilfrid Wilson Gibson poetry book The Golden Helm Authors: Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
Publisher: BiblioBazaar, LLC
Published Date: 2009-06
Categories: History
This is a pre-1923 historical reproduction that was curated for quality. Quality assurance was conducted on each of these books in an attempt to remove books with imperfections introduced by the digitization process. Though we have made best efforts - the books may have occasional errors that do not impede the reading experience. We believe this work is culturally important and have elected to bring the book back into print as part of our continuing commitment to the preservation of printed works worldwide.

Wilfrid Wilson Gibson Books, Wilfrid Wilson Gibson poetry book Battle Authors: Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
Publisher: Holyoake Press
Published Date: 2008-07
Categories: History
Many of the earliest books, particularly those dating back to the 1900s and before, are now extremely scarce and increasingly expensive. We are republishing these classic works in affordable, high quality, modern editions, using the original text and artwork.

Wilfrid Wilson Gibson Books, Wilfrid Wilson Gibson poetry book Friends Authors: Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
Publisher: ELKIN MATHEWS
Published Date: 2015-07-19
Categories: Poetry
Friends Your face was lifted to the golden sky Ablaze beyond the black roofs of the square, As flame on flame leapt, flourishing in air Its tumult of red stars exultantly, To the cold constellations dim and high; And as we neared, the roaring ruddy flare Kindled to gold your throat and brow and hair Until you burned, a flame of ecstasy. The golden head goes down into the night Quenched in cold gloom--and yet again you stand Beside me now with lifted face alight, As, flame to flame, and fire to fire you burn... Then, recollecting, laughingly you turn, And look into my eyes and take my hand.



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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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