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DeadPoetsDaily: ‘The Little Rose is Dust, My Dear’ by Grace Hazard Conkling

StickleyMuseum: "Today I crossed the grass until⁠ I met a yellow daffodil,⁠ Who took such tiny steps and slow,⁠ I wondered if I saw her go ..."⁠ ⁠ --Grace Hazard Conkling, "The Daffodil," The Craftsman, April 1912

StickleyMuseum: "What April is I cannot say,⁠ Nor why it makes me feel this way--⁠ And everybody feels the same!--⁠ All purry, warm, and glad I came!"⁠ ⁠ --Grace Hazard Conkling, The Craftsman, April 1915

5kaeya: - i will not give thee all my heart, grace hazard conkling

StickleyMuseum: "Today I crossed the grass until I met a yellow daffodil, Who took such tiny steps and slow, I wondered if I saw her go ..." --Grace Hazard Conkling, "The Daffodil," The Craftsman, April 1912

StickleyMuseum: "What April is I cannot say, Nor why it makes me feel this way-- And everybody feels the same!-- All purry, warm, and glad I came!" --Grace Hazard Conkling, The Craftsman, April 1915

WycombeHighSch: VIDEO: Poetry of Remembrance - Day 7 [The Final Day] 'Victory Bells' by Grace Hazard Conkling, read by Selina in Yr 10 Show your support:

AnastasiaH_SF: Poem: I Will Not Give Thee All My Heart ~ Grace Hazard Conkling.

MacDowellColony: This is not loneliness when we can share / The very foam that beauty breaks into / If the wave leans too far, when we all do / Brings us the same delight, the same despair. … "Squalls of Rain" by Grace Hazard Conkling (MF 25, 28)

FlowerstorePH: “It is because I am afraid of my heart That I write about clouds and flowers…” -Diary Written on Peony Petals by Grace Hazard Conkling

manas_akram: Wilderness Songs by Grace Hazard Conkling 1920 Hardcover First Edition

o_franco_aleman: I will not give thee all my heart For that I need a place apart To dream my dreams in Grace Hazard Conkling...



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Poem of the day

Andrew Lang Poem
Ballade Of The Midnight Forest
 by Andrew Lang

Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,
Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree;
The west wind breathes upon them, pure and cold,
And wolves still dread Diana roaming free
In secret woodland with her company.
'Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her rite
When now the wolds are bathed in silver light,
And first the moonrise breaks the dusky grey,
...

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