Bryan Procter
Bryan Procter
Bryan Waller Procterwas an English poet...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth21 November 1787
fall sunshine night
In the hollow tree, in the old gray tower, The spectral Owl doth dwell; Dull, hated, despised, in the sunshine hour, But at the dusk--he's abroad and well! Not a bird of the forest e'er mates with him-- All mock him outright, by day: But at night, when the woods grow still and dim, The boldest will shrink away! O, when the night falls, and roosts the fowl, Then, then, is the reign of the Horned Owl!
hate fate years
Enter upon thy paths, O year! Thy paths, which all who breathe must tread, Which lead the Living to the Dead, I enter; for it is my doom To tread thy labyrinthine gloom; To note who round me watch and wait; To love a few; perhaps to hate; And do all duties of my fate.
earth noise tongue
The sweetest noise on earth, a woman's tongue; A string which hath no discord.
beauty dream art
O human beauty, what a dream art thou, that we should cast our life and hopes away on thee!
dream winning ems
Most writers steal a good thing when they can, and when 'Tis safely got 'Tis worth the winning. The worst of 't is we now and then detect em, they ever dream that we suspect em.
english-poet thy touch
Touch us gently, Time! Let us glide adown thy stream, Gently, - as we sometimes glide Through a quiet dream!
beneath fragrance grows tale tells thy whispers
There's not a wind but whispers of thy name; And not a flow'r that grows beneath the moon, But in its hues and fragrance tells a tale Of thee, my love.
beach ocean marine
The sea! The sea! The open sea!, The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
mother wall wine
Sing! Who sings To her who weareth a hundred rings? Ah, who is this lady fine? The Vine, boys, the Vine! The mother of the mighty Wine, A roamer is she O'er wall and tree And sometimes very good company.
sea blue silence
I 'm on the sea! I 'm on the sea! I am where I would ever be, With the blue above and the blue below, And silence wheresoever I go.
dream time quiet
Touch us gently, Time! Let us glide adown thy stream Gently,-as we sometimes glide Through a quiet dream!
wind silent
How silent are the winds!
fall night shadow
Shadows fall on even the brightest hours.
wise sleep simple
I said that I loved the wise proverb, Brief, simple and deep; For it I'd exchange the great poem That sends us to sleep.