Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THISTLE-DOWN, by CLARA DOTY BATES First Line: Never a beak has my white bird Last Line: Is the thistle-down. Subject(s): Bords | ||||||||
NEVER a beak has my white bird, Nor throat for song; But wings of silk by soft wind stirred Bear it along. With wings of silk and a heart of seed, Over field and town It sails, -- ah! quaint little bird indeed Is the thistle-down. | Other Poems of Interest...THE SPINNER by CLARA DOTY BATES JANUARY by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE LAST WORD by MATTHEW ARNOLD APOLLO by THOMAS HOLLEY CHIVERS RESIGNATION by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE HYMNARY: 403. MARTYRS by ADAM OF SAINT VICTOR |
|