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  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    The green and gilded hills to me Personify a deity May they, caressed with modest pride Be tonight my gentle guide. The heavy mist, the heavy tide. The rocks and isles are defined With a small and starless line Who passes in the twilight blush And through the tearing river’s rush? ...
  • Poetry > Ballad
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    The fiery sun has died away Only smears of its shadows yet follow the day Remains of a bubblegum sky, still, may soon Overshadow the shy, yet following Moon. All through the earth, and into the sea Her silvery fingers would gently be; A white light like none else, the color of doves She lets...

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