Robert Crawford

(1868 - 13 January 1930 / Australia)

Robert Crawford Poems

41. Thought's Garden. 4/21/2010
42. The Flower. 4/21/2010
43. The Hamadryad. 4/21/2010
44. Summer Dawn. 4/21/2010
45. The Unborn. 4/21/2010
46. The Wind O' Death. 4/21/2010
47. The Storm. 4/21/2010
48. Thought's Assiduity. 4/21/2010
49. Marriage Morn. 4/21/2010
50. Love's Own. 4/21/2010
51. Inspiration. 4/21/2010
52. Sleep Compared To The Sea. 4/21/2010
53. Sea-Weeds. 4/21/2010
54. Proem. 4/21/2010
55. Natural Gifts. 4/21/2010
56. Homo Sum 4/21/2010
57. Healthy Labour. 4/21/2010
58. Falling Stars. 4/21/2010
59. Gold. 4/21/2010
60. In Egypt. 4/21/2010
61. Queen And Clown. 4/21/2010
62. Song #11. 4/21/2010
63. Song #4. 4/21/2010
64. In Verona. 4/21/2010
65. Lethe. 4/21/2010
66. Love's Reveller. 4/21/2010
67. Insect. 4/21/2010
68. Men And Women. 4/21/2010
69. Mutation. 4/21/2010
70. Maiden's Heart. 4/21/2010
71. To Lynette. 4/21/2010
72. The Retreat. 4/21/2010
73. The Rustic Life. 4/21/2010
74. Thought. 4/21/2010
75. Three In A Shade. 4/21/2010
76. Threnody. 4/21/2010
77. Supernatural Discernment. 4/21/2010
78. Song #8. 4/21/2010
79. The Bush Aboon Traquair 4/21/2010
80. The Old Unrest. 4/21/2010
Best Poem of Robert Crawford

A Song Of The Sea.

Here within the half-light 'tween the night and day
Upon the sands I lie, with thoughts that idly stirr'd
Seem, as in a dream, with life and death to play,
As o'er the sea there flits a pale white bird.
In my heart I hear it, the murmur of the sea,
Ah! and memories of other lives are stirr'd,
As somewise there came a mystic voice to me
As o'er the sea there flits a pale white bird.
Who but knows that in me is a ghost that hears
A voice it heard of old in the primeval word —
A memory so dim, it like a dream appears
As o'er the sea there flits a pale white bird!

Read the full of A Song Of The Sea.

Dream-Death

There is a breath at midnight that comes in
Sad as a sigh, for then the day is dead
And the young morrow doth his course begin,
Sowing new dreams in many a dreamer's head.
And there are two have waked in one dark bed
Just as the last stroke fades in lonely air,
And having whispered, half-awake, have sped
With silent feet into sleep's poppied lair.
She with the morning wakes, but he is gone;

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