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William Gay Poems

  • Dirge
    Cauld, cauld she lies where snaws are deep
    And bitter blaws the muirland win',
    And over her grave the icy stars
    Are keepin' watch abune. ...
  • Primroses
    They shine upon my table there,
    A constellation mimic sweet,
    No stars in Heaven could shine more fair,
    Nor Earth has beauty more complete; ...
  • The War Of The Ghosts
    Three Ghosts that haunt me have I,
    Three Ghosts in my soul that fight,
    Three grandsire Ghosts in my soul,
    That haunt me by day and by night. ...
  • Storm
    I love not when the oily seas
    Heave huge and slow beneath the sun,
    When decks are hot, and dead the breeze,
    And wits are dropping one by one. ...
  • The Singer
    Nay! sing no more thy wild delusive strain
    (I heard them say, while I my song pursued),
    'Tis but the rage of thy delirious brain
    (I heard them say, yet still my song renewed): ...
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Top 10 most used topics by William Gay

Death 8 Life 8 Long 8 Soul 7 Sea 7 Heart 6 Light 6 Rise 6 Fate 5 Good 5

William Gay Quotes

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Comments about William Gay

  • William_secret4: kinda homophobic it wont let me tag damien in gay tumblr images//
  • Karenrazon2: there’s folks you just don’t need. you’re better off without em. your life is just a little better because they ain’t in it.” ― william gay ralphgail kumulove
  • William_secret4: //wtf :] ≤))≥ | \ gay little william admin?//
  • 501c3p0: i got the son who wanted a gay guy to blow a strategic defense initiative. i william jenkins son got the privilege of inventing time travel with the force and some dads who just wanted a place to blow theirs jobs back in the 80's <3 mc chris. its luke deal.
  • Mikekennedynfl: the steelers to cardinals pipeline continues: sean morey brian st. pierre jerame tuman bryant mcfadden dan kreider alan faneca clark haggans joey porter rashard mendenhall lamarr woodley larry foote william gay aq shipley jarvis jones arthur moats marcus gilbert james conner
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Poem of the day

Thomas Moore Poem
Lay His Sword By His Side
 by Thomas Moore

Lay his sword by his side -- it hath served him too well
Not to rest near his pillow below;
To the last moment true, from his hand ere it fell,
Its point was still turn'd to a flying foe.
Fellow-labourers in life, let them slumber in death,
Side by side, as becomes the reposing brave --
That sword which he loved still unbroke in its sheath,
And himself unsubdued in his grave.

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