Poems e-bog

Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. With stress and urgence bold of prisoned spring And ecstasy of burgeoning. Now, since the dew-plashed road of mom is dry, Forth venture odors of more quality And heavenlier giving. 'like Jove's locks awry, Long mu'scadines Rich-wreathe the spacious foreheads of great pines, And breathe ambrosial passion from their vines. I pray with mosses, ferns and flowers shy That hide like gentle nuns from human eye To lift adoring perfumes to the sky. I hear faint bridal-sighs of brown and green Dying to silent hints of kisses keen As far lights fringe into a pleasant sheen I start at fragmentary whispers, blown From undertalks of leafy souls unknown.