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. While Yet We Wait For Spring 1/3/2003
15. Spirits 1/3/2003
16. Elegy On A Lady, Whom Grief For The Death Of Her Betrothed Killed 4/17/2010
17. Emily Bronte 4/17/2010
18. To The United States Of America 1/3/2003
19. North Wind In October 4/17/2010
20. Fortunatus Nimium 4/17/2010
21. Eros 4/17/2010
22. The Growth Of Love 1/1/2004
23. On A Dead Child 1/3/2003
24. For Beauty Being The Best Of All We Know 4/17/2010
25. Pater Filio 1/3/2003
26. I Have Loved Flowers That Fade 4/17/2010
27. Lord Kitchner 1/3/2003
28. Nimium Fortunatus 1/3/2003
29. I Love All Beauteous Things 4/17/2010
30. Low Barometer 1/3/2003
31. Absence 1/3/2003
32. Nightingales 1/3/2003
33. A Passer-By 1/3/2003
34. I Shall Never Love The Snow Again 4/17/2010
35. Melancholia 1/1/2004
36. My Delight And Thy Delight 1/3/2003
37. Awake, My Heart 1/3/2003
38. So Sweet Love Seemed That April Morn 1/3/2003
39. From 'The Testament Of Beauty' 1/1/2004
40. In Autumn Moonlight, When The White Air Wan 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Robert Seymour Bridges

London Snow

When men were all asleep the snow came flying, In large white flakes falling on the city brown,
Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying,
Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town;
Deadening, muffling, stifling its murmurs failing;
Lazily and incessantly floating down and down:
Silently sifting and veiling road, roof and railing;
Hiding difference, making unevenness even,
Into angles and crevices softly drifting and sailing.
All night it fell, and when full inches seven
It lay in the depth of its uncompacted lightness,
The clouds blew off from ...

Read the full of London Snow

Melancholia

The sickness of desire, that in dark days
Looks on the imagination of despair,
Forgetteth man, and stinteth God his praise;
Nor but in sleep findeth a cure for care.
Incertainty that once gave scope to dream
Of laughing enterprise and glory untold,
Is now a blackness that no stars redeem,
A wall of terror in a night of cold.
Fool! thou that hast impossibly desired

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