Category: Poetry
_Beautiful she was to look upon_ _And beautiful to know,_ _And all who knew her loved her._ _There was none to whom she was not tender,_ _Compassionate in her word or her silence;_ _There was none of whom she did not think well._
But now in my bowl dawn breaks no more, Over the bowl’s lip I hear the iron shudder of dry leaves Beaten by frozen wind. There is no rain to soften sleep, No day like topaz in t...
1. Part 1_Beautiful she was to look upon_ _And beautiful to know,_ _And all who knew her loved her._ _There was none to whom she was not tender,_ _Compassionate in her word or her silenc...
3. Part 3Singing the water rushes past your quiet grave Beneath this little town whose ancient name Suggests the fair collegiate dream and fame Of Oxford and her clustered towers. With w...