Robert Crawford

(1868 - 13 January 1930 / Australia)

Robert Crawford Poems

121. Life's Offices. 4/21/2010
122. Song #12. 4/21/2010
123. Religion. 4/21/2010
124. Natural Magic. 4/21/2010
125. Ghosts. 4/21/2010
126. Impetuosity. 4/21/2010
127. Night-Bound. 4/21/2010
128. Shakespeare? 4/21/2010
129. Song #10. 4/21/2010
130. Jove. 4/21/2010
131. In Verona. 4/21/2010
132. Love #3. 4/21/2010
133. Madrigal. 4/21/2010
134. Mind. 4/21/2010
135. The Glove Of The Live Lady. 4/21/2010
136. The Lyric Rose. 4/21/2010
137. The Finer Spirit. 4/21/2010
138. The Charm. 4/21/2010
139. Life And Death. 4/21/2010
140. Good And Evil. 4/21/2010
141. True Love. 4/21/2010
142. Song #7. 4/21/2010
143. The Orator. 4/21/2010
144. The Poet's Hope. 4/21/2010
145. Love #1. 4/21/2010
146. Of Woman's Love. 4/21/2010
147. Song #14. 4/21/2010
148. Linnet-Like. 4/21/2010
149. In Nineveh. 4/21/2010
150. The Poet's Songs. 4/21/2010
151. Truth. 4/21/2010
152. Madrigal #2. 4/21/2010
153. Charon. 4/21/2010
154. Youth's Inexperience. 4/21/2010
155. Spirit Fear. 4/21/2010
156. The Sundowner. 4/21/2010
157. Song 1/1/2004
158. Patriotism. 4/21/2010
159. God's Rest. 4/21/2010
160. Song #5. 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.

At Camelot

Her maiden dreams were redolent of love,
Warm-bosomed as she breathed the passionate air
Of old romance, and did in fancy move
'Mong the gay knights who died for ladies fair;
Until she heard the thunder of the press,
And so became a lover; her heart rang
The note of love's alarm, his tenderness,
When in the onset all the tourney sang.
And she was one of the dead ladies who,

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