William Henry Giles Kingston White Poems

  • 1.
    There is a Reaper, whose name is Death,
    And, with his sickle keen,
    He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
    And the flowers that grow between.
    ...
  • 2.
    There is a quiet spirit in these woods,
    That dwells where'er the gentle south wind blows;
    Where, underneath the whitethorn, in the glade,
    The wild flowers bloom, or, kissing the soft air,
    ...
  • 3.
    On sunny slope and beechen swell
    The shadowed light of evening fell:
    And, where the maple's leaf was brown,
    With soft and silent lapse came down
    ...
  • 4.
    I stood upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch
    Was glorious with the sun's returning march,
    And woods were brightened, and soft gales
    Went forth to kiss the sun-clad vales.
    ...
  • 5.
    And now, behold! as at the approach of morning
    Through the gross vapours, Mars grows fiery red
    Down in the west upon the ocean floor.

    ...
  • 6.
    I have read, in some old marvellous tale,
    Some legend strange and vague,
    That a midnight host of spectres pale
    Beleaguered the walls of Prague.
    ...
Total 6 White Poems by William Henry Giles Kingston

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The Song Of The Mouth-Organ
 by Robert Service

(With apologies to the singer of the “Song of the Banjo”.)

I'm a homely little bit of tin and bone;
I'm beloved by the Legion of the Lost;
I haven't got a “vox humana” tone,
And a dime or two will satisfy my cost.
I don't attempt your high-falutin' flights;
I am more or less uncertain on the key;
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