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William Drummond Poems

  • Spring Bereaved Iii
    Alexis, here she stay'd; among these pines,
    Sweet hermitress, she did alone repair;
    Here did she spread the treasure of her hair,
    More rich than that brought from the Colchian mines....
  • Spring Bereaved Ii
    Sweet Spring, thou turn'st with all thy goodly train,
    Thy head with flames, thy mantle bright with flow'rs:
    The zephyrs curl the green locks of the plain,
    The clouds for joy in pearls weep down their show'rs....
  • Spring Bereaved I
    That zephyr every year
    So soon was heard to sigh in forests here,
    It was for her: that wrapp'd in gowns of green
    Meads were so early seen,...
  • Saint John Baptist
    The last and greatest Herald of Heaven's King,
    Girt with rough skins, hies to the deserts wild,
    Among that savage brood the woods forth bring,
    Which he than man more harmless found and mild....
  • Madrigal
    Like the Idalian queen,
    Her hair about her eyne,
    With neck and breast's ripe apples to be seen,
    At first glance of the morn...
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Top 10 most used topics by William Drummond

Life 6 Spring 6 Voice 5 Soul 5 King 5 Bring 5 Bright 4 Earth 4 Hair 4 Stay 4

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Comments about William Drummond

Bristolnownews: eric drummond smith is an artist and associate professor of political science at the university of virginia’s college at wise.
Charityrandom: william drummond trus for upkeep of wigtownshire martyrs monument
Weirb: he that will not reason is a bigot; he that cannot reason is a fool; and he that dares not reason is a slave. william drummond
Poonammeriteju1: “he who dares not , is a slave.” — william drummond vijayi bhava shiv thakare
Nastymutant: reminder: rees-mogg endorses his father william's condemnation of enoch powell's 1968 speech predicting ill consequences of government importation of foreign populations and forcing us to integrate with them. heath fired powell from shadow cabinet. tories then and now: traitors.
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Poem of the day

William Butler Yeats Poem
The Valley Of The Black Pig
 by William Butler Yeats

The dews drop slowly and dreams gather: unknown spears
Suddenly hurtle before my dream-awakened eyes,
And then the clash of fallen horsemen and the cries
Of unknown perishing armies beat about my ears.
We who still labour by the cromlech on the shore,
The grey caim on the hill, when day sinks drowned in dew,
Being weary of the world's empires, bow down to you.
Master of the still stars and of the flaming door.

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