Lord Alfred Douglas
Lord Alfred Douglas Poems
|1.||Harmonic Du Soir||4/12/2010|
|2.||Night Coming Out Of A Garden||4/12/2010|
|4.||The Ballad Of Saint Vitus||4/12/2010|
|5.||To L —||4/12/2010|
|6.||Ode To Autumn||4/12/2010|
|8.||The Travelling Companion||4/12/2010|
|11.||Night Coming Into A Garden||4/12/2010|
|13.||The Garden Of Death||4/12/2010|
|15.||Jonquil And Fleur-De-Lys||4/12/2010|
|16.||A Winter Sunset||4/12/2010|
|19.||Sonnet On The Sonnet||1/1/2004|
|21.||Impression De Nuit ( London )||1/1/2004|
|22.||In Memoriam : Francis Archibald Douglas||4/12/2010|
|26.||Not All The Singers Of A Thousand Years||1/1/2004|
|27.||The City Of The Soul: Ii||1/1/2004|
|28.||The Green River||1/1/2004|
|29.||The Dead Poet||1/1/2004|
I have been through the woods to-day
And the leaves were falling,
Summer had crept away,
And the birds were not calling.
And the bracken was like yellow gold
That comes too late,
When the heart is sad and old,
And death at the gate.
Ah, mournful Autumn ! Sad,
Slow death that comes at last,
I am mad for a yesterday, mad !
I am sick for a year that is past!
Though the sun be like blood in the sky
He is cold as the lips of hate,
And he fires the sere leaves as they lie
On their bed of earth, too late.
They are dead, and the bare ...
The Dead Poet
I dreamed of him last night, I saw his face
All radiant and unshadowed of distress,
And as of old, in music measureless,
I heard his golden voice and marked him trace
Under the common thing the hidden grace,
And conjure wonder out of emptiness,
Till mean things put on beauty like a dress
And all the world was an enchanted place.