Grace Hazard Conkling Poems

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The Nightingale Of Flanders

THE nightingales of Flanders,
They had not gone to war;
A soldier heard them singing

After Sunset

I have an understanding with the hills
At evening when the slanted radiance fills
Their hollows, and the great winds let them be,
And they are quiet and look down at me.

To A New-Born Baby Girl

And did thy sapphire shallop slip
Its moorings suddenly, to dip

Adown the clear, ethereal sea

To Hilda Of Her Roses

ENOUGH has been said about roses
To fill thirty thick volumes;
There are as many songs about roses
As there are roses in the world

Francis Ledwidge

(Killed in action July 31, 1917)

Nevermore singing
Will you go now,

April In The Huasteca

Dark on the gold west,
Mexico hung inscrutable like a curtain of heavy velvet
Before a lighted shrine.
Black on the west

I Will Not Give Thee All My Heart

I will not give thee all my heart
For that I need a place apart
To dream my dreams in, and I know


Oh, cut me reeds to blow upon,
   Or gather me a star,
But leave the sultry passion-flowers
   Growing where they are.

The Little Rose Is Dust, My Dear

The little rose is dust, my dear;
The elfin wind is gone
That sang a song of silver words
And cooled our hearts with dawn.

Cretonne Tropics

The cretonne in your willow chair
Shows through a zone of rosy air,
A tree of parrots, agate-eyed,
With blue-green crests and plumes of pride

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