Take these rhymes into thy grace, Since they are of thy begetting, Lady, that dost make each place
[Midnight.] First, two white arms that held him very close, And ever closer as he drew him back
GLOUCESTER, AUGUST, 1720 The wind it wailed, the wind it moaned, And the white caps flecked the sea;
From yonder gilded minaret Beside the steel-blue Neva set, I faintly catch, from time to time,
The sky is gray as gray may be, There is no bird upon the bough, There is no leaf on vine or tree.
I Shakespeare and Milton--what third blazoned name Shall lips of after-ages link to these?
Edward Rowland Sill, Died February 27, 1887 I held his letter in my hand, And even while I read