Robert Seymour Bridges

(1844 - 1930 / England)

Robert Seymour Bridges Poems

1. The Hill Pines Were Sighing 4/17/2010
2. To Joseph Joachim 1/1/2004
3. To The President Of Magdalen College, Oxford 1/1/2004
4. There Is A Hill 4/17/2010
5. To Catullus 4/17/2010
6. Elegy 2/11/2015
7. The Evening Darkens Over 4/17/2010
8. Noel: Christmas Eve 1913 12/15/2014
9. The Affliction Of Richard 4/17/2010
10. To Thos. Floyd 1/1/2004
11. Spring Goeth All In White 4/17/2010
12. When Death To Either Shall Come 1/3/2003
13. Winter Nightfall 1/3/2003
14. Spirits 1/3/2003
15. Elegy On A Lady, Whom Grief For The Death Of Her Betrothed Killed 4/17/2010
16. Emily Bronte 4/17/2010
17. North Wind In October 4/17/2010
18. Fortunatus Nimium 4/17/2010
19. Eros 4/17/2010
20. The Growth Of Love 1/1/2004
21. To The United States Of America 1/3/2003
22. On A Dead Child 1/3/2003
23. For Beauty Being The Best Of All We Know 4/17/2010
24. Pater Filio 1/3/2003
25. I Have Loved Flowers That Fade 4/17/2010
26. Nimium Fortunatus 1/3/2003
27. Lord Kitchner 1/3/2003
28. Low Barometer 1/3/2003
29. While Yet We Wait For Spring 1/3/2003
30. I Love All Beauteous Things 4/17/2010
31. Absence 1/3/2003
32. A Passer-By 1/3/2003
33. Nightingales 1/3/2003
34. I Shall Never Love The Snow Again 4/17/2010
35. Melancholia 1/1/2004
36. In Autumn Moonlight, When The White Air Wan 1/3/2003
37. My Delight And Thy Delight 1/3/2003
38. Awake, My Heart 1/3/2003
39. So Sweet Love Seemed That April Morn 1/3/2003
40. From 'The Testament Of Beauty' 1/1/2004
Best Poem of Robert Seymour Bridges

I Will Not Let Thee Go

I will not let thee go.
Ends all our month-long love in this?
Can it be summed up so,
Quit in a single kiss?
I will not let thee go.

I will not let thee go.
If thy words' breath could scare thy deeds,
As the soft south can blow
And toss the feathered seeds,
Then might I let thee go.

I will not let thee go.
Had not the great sun seen, I might;
Or were he reckoned slow
To bring the false to light,
Then might I let thee go.

I will not let thee go.
The stars that crowd the summer skies
Have watched us so below
With all their million...

Read the full of I Will Not Let Thee Go

A Passer-By

Whither, O splendid ship, thy white sails crowding,
Leaning across the bosom of the urgent West,
That fearest nor sea rising, nor sky clouding,
Whither away, fair rover, and what thy quest?
Ah! soon, when Winter has all our vales opprest,
When skies are cold and misty, and hail is hurling,
Wilt thoù glìde on the blue Pacific, or rest
In a summer haven asleep, thy white sails furling.

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