Charles Leonard Moore

  • From the "Book of Day-Dreams"

    Soul unto SOUL GLOOMS DARKLING
    DISGUISE upon disguise, and then disguise,
    Equivocations at the rose’s heart,
    Life’s surest pay a poet’s forgeries,
    The gossamer gold coinage of our art.
    Why hope for truth? Thy very being slips,
    Lost from thee, in thy...

  • To England

    Now england lessens on my sight;
      The bastioned front of Wales,
    Discolored and indefinite,
      There like a cloud-wreath sails:
    A league, and all those thronging hills
      Must sink beneath the sea;
    But while one touch of Memory thrills,
      ...