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Robert Laurence Binyon's Poetry, by popularity

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  • Yet when the challenge rang,
    " The War-Lord comes ; give room ! "
    26 lines
  • Still for your frontier stands
    The host that knew no dread,
    4 lines
  • Will they blot also out your name
    Because you praise
    33 lines
  • Within, the pillars soar to gloom
    Lit by the glimmering Rose ;
    35 lines
  • IT was the very heart of Peace that thrilled
    In the deep minster-bell's wide-throbbing sound
    18 lines
  • But sudden in the hush between
    Death and the doomed, there stands
    11 lines
  • Amid the thunder of the guns,
    The lightnings of the lance and sword
    11 lines
  • But from that blood, those ashes there arose
    Not hoped-for terror cowering as it ran,
    21 lines
  • Sleep, sleep on Mother's breast,
    Child, my child!
    23 lines
  • Shabby house--wall
    Of bricks once yellow,
    24 lines
  • She is not fair, as some are fair,
    Cold as the snow, as sunshine gay:
    71 lines
  • My boat swings out and back,
    Moored among mint and rush.
    13 lines
  • ``Haste thee, Harold, haste thee North!
    Norway ships in Humber crowd.
    107 lines
  • Round apples, burning upon the apple boughs,
    As the evening flush withdraws,
    24 lines
  • This is the man who, sole in Britain, sole
    In Europe, by profounder instinct knew
    15 lines
  • The Mother to her brooding breast
    Her shrouded baby closely holds,
    9 lines
  • And were they but for this, those passionate schemes
    Of joy, that I have nursed? indeed for this
    47 lines
  • Trees are for lovers.
    A spirit has led them
    29 lines
  • Often we talk of the house that we will build
    For airier and less jostled days than these
    96 lines
  • Songs of the world unborn
    Swelling within me, a shoot from the heart of Spring,
    64 lines
  • Linger not, linger not, lift your glasses.
    Mirth shall come, as misery passes.
    669 lines
  • She is eight years old.
    When she laughs, her eyes laugh;
    35 lines
  • From the howl of the wind
    As I opened the door
    19 lines
  • In the high leaves of a walnut,
    On the very topmost boughs,
    19 lines
  • In a patch of baked earth
    At the crumbled cliff's brink,
    24 lines
  • The long road lures across the hill,
    Divides the brown fields and the green,
    14 lines
  • I dream of western waters, and of the Seven Isles,
    And of mornings when they appear
    19 lines
  • If I could sing the song of her
    Who makes my heart to sing;
    19 lines
  • Towering, towering up to the noon--blaze,
    Up to the hot blue, up to blinding gold,
    76 lines
  • The Golden Gallery lifts its aery crown
    O'er dome and pinnacle: there I leaned and gazed.
    31 lines
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