James Brunton Stephens

(17 June 1835 – 29 June 1902 / Borrowstounness, on the Firth of Forth, Scotland;)

James Brunton Stephens Poems

41. Quart Pot Creek 3/3/2010
42. Song From “fayette'' 3/3/2010
43. Spirit And Star 3/3/2010
44. Spirit Of Song 1/4/2003
45. Stabat Mater 3/3/2010
46. Stanzas For Music 3/3/2010
47. The Angel Of The Doves 3/3/2010
48. The Boy Crusader 3/3/2010
49. The Chamber Of Faith 3/3/2010
50. The Courtship Of The Future 3/3/2010
51. The Dark Companion 1/4/2003
52. The Dominion 3/3/2010
53. The Dominion Of Australia 3/3/2010
54. The Famine In Ireland 3/3/2010
55. The Gentle Anarchist 3/3/2010
56. The Goths In Campania (Placidia, In The Tent Of Adolphus.) 3/3/2010
57. The Great Pig Story Of The Tweed 3/3/2010
58. The Headless Trooper 3/3/2010
59. The Midnight Axe 3/3/2010
60. The Power Of Science 3/3/2010
61. The Southern Cross 3/3/2010
62. The Squatter's Baccy Famine 3/3/2010
63. The Story Of A Soul 3/3/2010
64. The Turn Of The Road 4/16/2010
65. To A Black Gin 3/3/2010
66. Universally Respected 3/3/2010
Best Poem of James Brunton Stephens


Hark how the tremulous night-wind is passing in joy-laden sighs;
Soft through my window it comes, like the fanning of pinions angelic,
   Whispering to cease from myself, and look out on the infinite skies.

Out on the orb-studded night, and the crescent effulgence of Dian;
   Out on the far-gleaming star-dust that marks where the angels have trod;
Out on the gem-pointed Cross, and the glittering pomp of Orion,
   Flaming in measureless azure, the coronal jewels of God;

Luminous streams of delight in the silent ...

Read the full of Night

Not Understood

Not understood, we move along asunder;
   Our paths grow wider as the seasons creep
Along the years; we marvel and we wonder
   Why life is life, and then we fall asleep
   Not understood.

Not understood, we gather false impressions
   And hug them closer as the years go by;
Till virtues often seem to us transgressions;

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