Seumas Macmanus Home Poems

  • 1.
    Softly now the burn is rushing,
    Every lark its song is hushing,
    On the moor thick rest is falling,
    Just one heather-blade is calling-
    ...
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Feel 1 Home 1 Kiss 1 Lonely 1 Sleep 1 Song 1 White 1 Sheep 1 Brown 1 Velvet 1

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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt Poem
A Woman-s Sonnets: Ii
 by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Nay, dear one, ask me not to leave thee yet.
Let me a little longer hold thy hand.
Too soon it is to bid me to forget
The joys I was so late to understand.
The future holds but a blank face for me,
The past is all confused with tears and grey,
But the sweet present, while thy smiles I see,
Is perfect sunlight, an unclouded day.
...

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