Poems

Ave

Ave Mother of the Fair Delight, Thou handmaid perfect in God’s sight, Now sitting fourth beside the Three, Thyself a woman-Trinity,— Being a daughter born to […]

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“Found”

“Found” “THERE is a budding morrow in midnight:”— So sang our Keats, our English nightingale. And here, as lamps across the bridge turn pale In London’s […]

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