We go in withering July To ply the hard incessant hoe; Panting beneath the brazen sky We sweat and grumble, but we go.
The lily in splendor, the vine in her grace, The fox in the forest, all had their desire, As then I had mine, in the place that was happy and poor. - Ruth Pitter
The lily in splendor, the vine in her grace, The fox in the forest, all had their desire, As then I had mine, in the place that was happy and poor.
- Ruth Pitter
But the summits of poetry are mysteries; they are shiftingly veiled, and those who catch the glimpses see different aspects of the transcendental; bu… - Ruth Pitter
But the summits of poetry are mysteries; they are shiftingly veiled, and those who catch the glimpses see different aspects of the transcendental; bu…
Vain vision! when the changing world each day Sees some such lordly pleasance pass away; When the mere stripling knows my symbols all Worn tokes, hea… - Ruth Pitter
Vain vision! when the changing world each day Sees some such lordly pleasance pass away; When the mere stripling knows my symbols all Worn tokes, hea…
We go in withering July To ply the hard incessant hoe; Panting beneath the brazen sky We sweat and grumble, but we go. - Ruth Pitter
What do we look for as reward? Some little sounds, and scents, and scenes A small hand darting strawberry-ward A woman's aprons full of greens. The s… - Ruth Pitter
What do we look for as reward? Some little sounds, and scents, and scenes A small hand darting strawberry-ward A woman's aprons full of greens. The s…
Poor comfort all comfort: once what the mouse had spared Was enough, was delight, there where the heart was at home - Ruth Pitter
Poor comfort all comfort: once what the mouse had spared Was enough, was delight, there where the heart was at home
All in November's soaking mist We stand and prune the naked tree, While all our love and interest Seem quenched in the blue-nosed misery. - Ruth Pitter
All in November's soaking mist We stand and prune the naked tree, While all our love and interest Seem quenched in the blue-nosed misery.
To win the trophy of enchanting grace: Ranks of Carnations, to all ladies dear, Of whose sweet taste I write approval here, For these pre-eminent mys… - Ruth Pitter
To win the trophy of enchanting grace: Ranks of Carnations, to all ladies dear, Of whose sweet taste I write approval here, For these pre-eminent mys…
One's homesickness for Heaven finds at least an inn there; and it's an inn on the right road. - Ruth Pitter
One's homesickness for Heaven finds at least an inn there; and it's an inn on the right road.
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