Annie Fields

  • Song, to the Gods, Is Sweetest Sacrifice

    “behold another singer!” Criton said,
    And sneered, and in his sneering turned the leaf:
    “Who reads the poets now? They are past and dead:
    Give me for their vain work unrhymed relief.”
    A laugh went round. Meanwhile the last ripe sheaf
    Of corn was garnered,...

  • The Return

    The bright sea washed beneath her feet,
      As it had done of yore,
    The well-remembered odor sweet
      Came through her opening door.

    Again the grass his ripened head
      Bowed where her raiment swept;
    Again the fog-bell told of dread,
      And...

  • Little Guinever

              “when queen Guinever of Britain was a little wench.”
    LOVE’S LABOUR ’S LOST

  • Theocritus

    Ay! unto thee belong
    The pipe and song,
    Theocritus,—
    Loved by the satyr and the faun!
    To thee the olive and the vine,
    To thee the Mediterranean pine,
    And the soft lapping sea!
    Thine, Bacchus,
    Thine, the blood-red revels,
    ...

  • On Waking from a Dreamless Sleep

    I waked; the sun was in the sky,
      The face of heaven was fair;
    The silence all about me lay,
      Of morning in the air.

    I said, Where hast thou been, my soul,
      Since the moon set in the west?
    I know not where thy feet have trod,
      Nor...