Mathilde Blind

(1841 - 1896 / Germany)

Mathilde Blind Poems

81. Scarabæus Sisyphus 1/3/2003
82. Our Souls Have Touched Each Other 1/3/2003
83. Sphinx-Money 1/3/2003
84. Spring In The Alps 4/20/2010
85. On The Lighthouse At Antibes 1/3/2003
86. On A Letter 4/20/2010
87. Lines Ii 4/20/2010
88. The Colossi Of The Plain 1/3/2003
89. She Stood Against The Orient Sun 1/3/2003
90. Mourning Women 1/3/2003
91. The After-Glow 1/3/2003
92. To The Obelisk 1/3/2003
93. The Dead 1/3/2003
94. L'Envoi 1/3/2003
95. Winding All My Life About Thee 1/3/2003
96. On Reading The 1/3/2003
97. Noonday Rest 4/20/2010
98. The Abandoned 4/20/2010
99. Haunted 4/20/2010
100. In Spring 4/20/2010
101. O Moon 1/3/2003
102. Sundered Paths 4/20/2010
103. Untimely Love 1/3/2003
104. Cagnes 1/3/2003
105. Love And The Muse 4/20/2010
106. Rest 4/20/2010
107. Sleep 1/3/2003
108. Lines 4/20/2010
109. Cedars Of Lebanon At Warwick Castle 4/20/2010
110. In A Lonesome Burial-Place 1/3/2003
111. Seeking 1/3/2003
112. Shakespeare 4/20/2010
113. The Agnostic 4/20/2010
114. Motherhood 1/3/2003
115. I Planted A Rose Tree 1/3/2003
116. My Lady 1/3/2003
117. Time's Shadow 1/3/2003
118. On A Torso Of Cupid 4/20/2010
119. Love-Trilogy 4/20/2010
120. The Hunter's Moon 1/3/2003

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Best Poem of Mathilde Blind

April Rain

The April rain, the April rain,
Comes slanting down in fitful showers,
Then from the furrow shoots the grain,
And banks are fledged with nestling flowers;
And in grey shaw and woodland bowers
The cuckoo through the April rain
Calls once again.

The April sun, the April sun,
Glints through the rain in fitful splendour,
And in grey shaw and woodland dun
The little leaves spring forth and tender
Their infant hands, yet weak and slender,
For warmth towards the April sun,
One after one.

And between shower and shine hath birth
The ...

Read the full of April Rain

Scarabæus Sisyphus

I've watched thee, Scarab! Yea, an hour in vain
I've watched thee, slowly toiling up the hill,
Pushing thy lump of mud before thee still
With patience infinite and stubborn strain.
Strive as thou mayst, spare neither time nor pain,
To screen thy burden from all chance of ill;
Push, push, with all a beetle's force of will,
Thy ball, alas! rolls ever down again.

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