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surrounding cloud that will not free my soul. 3 In the dooryard fronting an old farm-house near the white-wash'd
wheat, every grain from its shroud in the dark-brown fields uprisen, Passing the apple-tree blows of white
I saw battle-corpses, myriads of them, And the white skeletons of young men, I saw them, I saw the debris
surrounding cloud that will not free my soul. 3 In the dooryard fronting an old farm-house near the white-wash'd
wheat, every grain from its shroud in the dark-brown fields uprisen, Passing the apple-tree blows of white
I saw battle-corpses, myriads of them, And the white skeletons of young men, I saw them, I saw the debris
3 In the door-yard fronting an old farm-house, near the white-wash'd palings, Stands the lilac bush,
wheat, every grain from its shroud in the dark-brown fields uprising; Passing the apple-tree blows of white
I saw battle-corpses, myriads of them, And the white skeletons of young men—I saw them; I saw the debris
Selected and Edited by William Michael Rossetti One Vol., pp. 406. J.C. Hotten.
To William Michael Rossetti, as the selecter of these poems, we are not simply, in old-fashioned phrase
That immortal house, more than all the rows of dwellings ever built, Or white domed white-domed Capitol
William Wordsworth was reputedly fond of the lesser celandine and it inspired him to write three poems
William Cowper (1731-1800) was a popular English poet of his time.
over six months ago we came across an edition of the Works of Walt Whitman, selected and edited by William
grey shirt, his iron grey hands, his swart sun-browned face and bare neck, he laid upon the brown and white
During this period he was on familiar terms of acquaintance with William Cullen Bryant, and the two were
again, this soil'd world; For my enemy is dead a man divine as myself is dead I look where he lies white-faced
and still in the coffin—I draw near I bend Bend down and touch lightly with my lips the white face in
ancient sorrowful mother, Once a queen now lean and tattered tatter'd , seated on the ground, Her old white
In the dooryard fronting an old farmhouse near the white-wash'd palings, Stands the lilac-bush tall-growing
Winds blow south, or winds blow north, Day come white, or white come black, Home, or rivers and mountains
soiree, I heard what the singers were singing so long, Heard who sprang in crimson youth from the white
She sits in an arm-chair, under the shaded porch of the farmhouse, The sun just shines on her old white
, of original grandeur and elegance of design, with the masses of gay colour, the preponderance of white
and sunny temperament, a sight to draw near and look upon with her large figure, her profuse snow-white
William Michael Rossetti has been for some time what may be called a disciple of Whitman.
Selected and edited by William Michael Rossetti —J.C. Hotten.
manner which, if irony were not a mode rather foreign to him, we should consider ironical, that "William
William O'Connor and Dr.
We have no concern with William O'Connor and Dr. Bucke. If we have concern with Mr.
wants something newer and better than the old poetry, and that his poetry is not an achievement (William
All this is granted by us, or rather spontaneously asserted, and if William O'Connor and Dr.
pass up or down, white-sail'd schooners, sloops, lighters! Flaunt away, flags of all nations!
What is that little black thing I see there in the white? Loud! loud! loud!
The early lilacs became part of this child, And grass and white and red morning-glories, and white and
Sister of loftiest gods, Alboni's self I hear.) 4 I hear those odes, symphonies, operas, I hear in the William
In calculating that decision, William O'Connor and Dr. Bucke are far more peremptory than I am.
spread your white sails my little bark athwart the imperious waves, Chant on, sail on, bear o'er the
pass up or down, white-sail'd schooners, sloops, lighters! Flaunt away, flags of all nations!
What is that little black thing I see there in the white? Loud! loud! loud!
The early lilacs became part of this child, And grass and white and red morning-glories, and white and
Sister of loftiest gods, Alboni's self I hear.) 4 I hear those odes, symphonies, operas, I hear in the William
The early lilacs became part of this child, And grass, and white and red morning-glories, and white and
pass up or down, white-sail'd schooners, sloops, lighters! Flaunt away, flags of all nations!
What is that little black thing I see there in the white? Loud! loud! loud!
Let the white person tread the black person under his heel! (Say!
We, loose winrows, little corpses, Froth, snowy white, and bubbles, (See!
I smell the white roses sweet-scented and growing.
Day come white, or night come black, Home, or rivers and mountains from home, Singing all time, minding
William Makepeace Thackeray (1811–1863), English novelist, best known for his satirical novel Vanity
Harold Williams. Vol. III. London: Oxford UP, 1963. 102-105.
surrounding cloud that will not free my soul. 3 In the dooryard fronting an old farm-house near the white-wash'd
wheat, every grain from its shroud in the dark-brown fields uprisen, Passing the apple-tree blows of white
I saw battle-corpses, myriads of them, And the white skeletons of young men, I saw them, I saw the debris
surrounding cloud that will not free my soul. 3 In the dooryard fronting an old farm-house near the white-wash'd
wheat, every grain from its shroud in the dark-brown fields uprisen, Passing the apple-tree blows of white
I saw battle-corpses, myriads of them, And the white skeletons of young men, I saw them, I saw the debris