The Poet's Journal
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In our eReader you can find the full English version of the book. Read The Poet's Journal Online - link to read the book on full screen. Our eReader also allows you to upload and read Pdf, Txt, ePub and fb2 books. In the Mini eReder on the page below you can quickly view all pages of the book - Read Book The Poet's Journal
What reading level is The Poet's Journal book?
To quickly assess the difficulty of the text, read a short excerpt:
Now first I dare remember That day of death and woe : Within, the dreadfiil silence, "Without, the sun and snow !
DECEMBER.
The beecli is bare, and bare the ash, The thickets white below ; The fir-tree scowls with hoar moustache.
He cannot sing for snow.
The body-guard of veteran pines, A grim battalion, stands ; They ground their arms, in ordered lines, For "Winter so commands.
The waves are dumb along the shore.
The river's pulse is still ; The north-wind's bugle blows no more EeveUld from th...e hUl.
The rustling sift of falling snow.
The muffled crush of leaves, These are the sounds suppressed, that show How much the forest grieves ; 54 But, a8 the blind and vacant Day Crawls to his ashy bed, I hear dull echoes far away.
Like drums above the dead.
Sigh with me, Pine that never changed !
Thou wear'st the Summer's hue ; Her other loves are all estranged, But thou and I are true !
SYLVAN SPIEITS.
The gray stems rise, the branches braid A covering of deepest shade.
Beneath these old, inviolate trees There comes no stealthy, sliding breeze, To overhear their mysteries.
What to read after The Poet's Journal?
You can find similar books in the "Read Also" column, or choose other free books by Taylor Bayard to read onlineMoreLess
To quickly assess the difficulty of the text, read a short excerpt:
Now first I dare remember That day of death and woe : Within, the dreadfiil silence, "Without, the sun and snow !
DECEMBER.
The beecli is bare, and bare the ash, The thickets white below ; The fir-tree scowls with hoar moustache.
He cannot sing for snow.
The body-guard of veteran pines, A grim battalion, stands ; They ground their arms, in ordered lines, For "Winter so commands.
The waves are dumb along the shore.
The river's pulse is still ; The north-wind's bugle blows no more EeveUld from th...e hUl.
The rustling sift of falling snow.
The muffled crush of leaves, These are the sounds suppressed, that show How much the forest grieves ; 54 But, a8 the blind and vacant Day Crawls to his ashy bed, I hear dull echoes far away.
Like drums above the dead.
Sigh with me, Pine that never changed !
Thou wear'st the Summer's hue ; Her other loves are all estranged, But thou and I are true !
SYLVAN SPIEITS.
The gray stems rise, the branches braid A covering of deepest shade.
Beneath these old, inviolate trees There comes no stealthy, sliding breeze, To overhear their mysteries.
What to read after The Poet's Journal?
You can find similar books in the "Read Also" column, or choose other free books by Taylor Bayard to read onlineMoreLess
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