Poems by Mary Dow Brine

One was fair as fair could be,
The others black--(she thought them pretty);
And I--of only on...

The crimson glory of the setting sun
Hath lain a moment on the ocean's breast,
Till twilight s...

Today I saw the violet-girl, with sad and wistful eyes;
She stands there by the corner, and "...

Once on a time a quarrel rose,
'Tis said, between impatient Spring
And that old Greybeard Win...

And the flowers preached their sermon
By the wayside--sweet and fair,
Breathing out their subt...

Oh! Matin Bells, which cheerily
Ring out your morning song,
Would that I were a boy again,
...

Slow, but sure, the enemy comes,
His breath we may almost feel,
And the flowers of earth mu...

"My Margaret, would that I could be
The breeze which softly kisses thee;
Or else those sunbea...

An April maiden is my love,
So full of moods is she,
I hardly know, to tell the truth,
Whi...

You may sing of your merry maidens,
Sing praises from morning till night,
And eagerly tell
O...

A soft, sweet fragrance in the air
Of dew-wet flowers. Everywhere
A tender, restful silence l...

How fair it comes, the wonderful hour
When nature from sleep awakes,
And over the face of the...

Dear Saviour, I am as the "barren tree, "
Unworthy of the love Thou givest me;
And yet, oh, ...

The brook goes gently murmuring
On its accustomed way,
Thro' meadow grasses singing,
Thro' f...

Creatures of golden, sunshiny weather,
Coquetting with blossoms for hours together! Ha...