The Vision of Prophecy and Other Poems By James D. Burns ... Second Edition |
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| X. |
| XI. |
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| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
 | The Vision of Prophecy and Other Poems |  |
No laurel leaves, no sweet unfading flowers,
Bloom in the garland of these simple lines;
They are but rushes woven in random hours,
Like those some lonely shepherd-boy entwines:
Bloom in the garland of these simple lines;
They are but rushes woven in random hours,
Like those some lonely shepherd-boy entwines:
The while his fingers plait the scentless wreath,
He finds some pleasure in his idle skill;
At even, he leaves it withering on the heath,
Or strews its fragments on the moorland rill.
He finds some pleasure in his idle skill;
At even, he leaves it withering on the heath,
Or strews its fragments on the moorland rill.
| The Vision of Prophecy and Other Poems | |