Poems by William Alexander

In the silence of the morning,
Of the morning grey and clouded,
Mist enshrouded,
On the sho...

All the sweet summer azure is not fled--
What hath the woodland, then, to do with grief?
The ...

I A city of young life astir for fame,
With generations each of three years' date, --
The wat...

Waves, waves, waves,
Graceful arches lit with night's pale gold,
Boom like thunder thro' th...