Augusta Davies Webster

(30 January 1837 - 5 September 1894 / Dorset, England)

Augusta Davies Webster Poems

1. Poulain The Prisoner 4/2/2010
2. Tell Me Not Of Morrows, Sweet 4/2/2010
3. The Oldest Inhabitant 4/2/2010
4. Not To Be 4/2/2010
5. One Star Only For Love's Heaven 4/2/2010
6. The Sea-Maid’s Song 4/2/2010
7. St. Ame 4/2/2010
8. Too Soon So Fair, Fair Lilies 4/2/2010
9. The Old Love 4/2/2010
10. The Sky-Lark’s Song 4/2/2010
11. The Brook Rhine 4/2/2010
12. Once 4/2/2010
13. The Brook Leaps Riotous 1/3/2003
14. To-Day 4/2/2010
15. Safe 1/3/2003
16. No News From The War 4/2/2010
17. Not Love 4/2/2010
18. Siste Viator 4/2/2010
19. The Wind’s Tidings In August 1870 4/2/2010
20. The Old Dream 4/2/2010
21. Seeds With Wings, Between Earth And Sky 4/2/2010
22. The First Spring Day 4/2/2010
23. The Swallows 4/2/2010
24. Questions And Answer 4/2/2010
25. The Butterfly 4/2/2010
26. Ni-Chan’s Dirge For Yen-Oey 4/2/2010
27. Tis Hard 1/3/2003
28. Waiting 4/2/2010
29. The Manuscript Of Saint Alexius 1/3/2003
30. The Pine 1/3/2003
31. Miles And Miles Of Here And There 4/2/2010
32. News To The King, Good News For All 4/2/2010
33. The Missing Star 4/2/2010
34. Tired 1/3/2003
35. Coming Home 1/3/2003
36. If? 1/3/2003
37. She Has Made Me Wayside Posies 1/3/2003
38. Once A Sea-Nymph Loved A Boy 4/2/2010
39. In After Years 4/2/2010
40. Marjory 4/2/2010
Best Poem of Augusta Davies Webster

Birds Sing I Love You, Love

Birds sing "I love you, love" the whole day through,
And not another song can they sing right;
But, singing done with, loving's done with quite,
The autumn sunders every twittering two.
And I'd not have love make too much ado
With sweet parades of fondness and delight,
Lest iterant wont should make caresses trite,
Love-names mere cuckoo ousters of the true.

Oh heart can hear heart's sense in senseless nought,
And heart that's sure of heart has little speech.
What shall it tell? The other knows its thought.
What shall one doubt or question or ...

Read the full of Birds Sing I Love You, Love

The Pine

The elm lets fall its leaves before the frost,
The very oak grows shivering and sere,
The trees are barren when the summer's lost:
But one tree keeps its goodness all the year.

Green pine, unchanging as the days go by,
Thou art thyself beneath whatever sky:
My shelter from all winds, my own strong pine,
'Tis spring, 'tis summer, still, while thou art mine.

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