Robert Seymour Bridges

(1844 - 1930 / England)

Robert Seymour Bridges Poems

1. To Joseph Joachim 1/1/2004
2. To The President Of Magdalen College, Oxford 1/1/2004
3. There Is A Hill 4/17/2010
4. To Catullus 4/17/2010
5. The Hill Pines Were Sighing 4/17/2010
6. Elegy 2/11/2015
7. The Evening Darkens Over 4/17/2010
8. The Affliction Of Richard 4/17/2010
9. To Thos. Floyd 1/1/2004
10. Noel: Christmas Eve 1913 12/15/2014
11. When Death To Either Shall Come 1/3/2003
12. Spring Goeth All In White 4/17/2010
13. Winter Nightfall 1/3/2003
14. Elegy On A Lady, Whom Grief For The Death Of Her Betrothed Killed 4/17/2010
15. Spirits 1/3/2003
16. To The United States Of America 1/3/2003
17. Fortunatus Nimium 4/17/2010
18. Emily Bronte 4/17/2010
19. Eros 4/17/2010
20. North Wind In October 4/17/2010
21. On A Dead Child 1/3/2003
22. For Beauty Being The Best Of All We Know 4/17/2010
23. Pater Filio 1/3/2003
24. The Growth Of Love 1/1/2004
25. Nimium Fortunatus 1/3/2003
26. Lord Kitchner 1/3/2003
27. I Have Loved Flowers That Fade 4/17/2010
28. I Love All Beauteous Things 4/17/2010
29. Absence 1/3/2003
30. Low Barometer 1/3/2003
31. While Yet We Wait For Spring 1/3/2003
32. A Passer-By 1/3/2003
33. I Shall Never Love The Snow Again 4/17/2010
34. Melancholia 1/1/2004
35. Nightingales 1/3/2003
36. From 'The Testament Of Beauty' 1/1/2004
37. My Delight And Thy Delight 1/3/2003
38. In Autumn Moonlight, When The White Air Wan 1/3/2003
39. Awake, My Heart 1/3/2003
40. So Sweet Love Seemed That April Morn 1/3/2003

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Best Poem of Robert Seymour Bridges

London Snow

When men were all asleep the snow came flying, In large white flakes falling on the city brown,
Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying,
Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town;
Deadening, muffling, stifling its murmurs failing;
Lazily and incessantly floating down and down:
Silently sifting and veiling road, roof and railing;
Hiding difference, making unevenness even,
Into angles and crevices softly drifting and sailing.
All night it fell, and when full inches seven
It lay in the depth of its uncompacted lightness,
The clouds blew off from ...

Read the full of London Snow


The sickness of desire, that in dark days
Looks on the imagination of despair,
Forgetteth man, and stinteth God his praise;
Nor but in sleep findeth a cure for care.
Incertainty that once gave scope to dream
Of laughing enterprise and glory untold,
Is now a blackness that no stars redeem,
A wall of terror in a night of cold.
Fool! thou that hast impossibly desired

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