Harold Monro

(14 March 1879 - 16 March 1932 / Brussels)

Harold Monro Poems

1. Child Of Dawn 1/1/2004
2. Children Of Love 4/21/2010
3. Dog 4/21/2010
4. Every Thing 4/21/2010
5. Goldfish 4/21/2010
6. Gravikty 4/21/2010
7. Great City 4/21/2010
8. Introspection 11/27/2015
9. Lake Leman 1/1/2004
10. Living 4/23/2012
11. London Interior 4/23/2012
12. Man Carrying Bale 4/21/2010
13. Midnight Lamentation 4/23/2012
14. Milk For The Cat 4/21/2010
15. Overheard On A Salmarsh 4/21/2010
16. Real Property 4/21/2010
17. Solitude 4/21/2010
18. Suburb 4/23/2012
19. The Bird At Dawn 4/21/2010
20. The Nightingale Near The House 4/21/2010
21. The Rebellious Vine 4/21/2010
22. The Silent Pool 4/23/2012
23. Thistledown 4/21/2010
24. Two Poems: (Numbers I And X In 'strange Meetings.') 4/21/2010
25. Unknown Country 4/21/2010
26. Week-End 4/21/2010
27. Youth In Arms 4/21/2010
Best Poem of Harold Monro

Great City

When I returned at sunset,
The serving-maid was singing softly
Under the dark stairs, and in the house
Twilight had entered like a moon-ray.
Tune was so dead I could not understand
The meaning of midday or of midnight,
But like falling waters, falling, hissing, falling,
Silence seemed an everlasting sound.

I sat in my room,
And watched sunset,
And saw starlight.
I heard the tramp of homing men,
And the last call of the last child;
Then a lone bird twittered,
And suddenly, beyond the housetops,
I imagined dew in the country,
In the ...

Read the full of Great City

Lake Leman

It is the sacred hour: above the far
Low emerald hills that northward fold,
Calmly, upon the blue the evening star
Floats, wreathed in dusky gold.
The winds have sung all day; but now they lie
Faint, sleeping; and the evening sounds awake.
The slow bell tolls across the water: I
Am haunted by the spirit of the lake.
It seems as though the sounding of the bell

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