Poems with rhymes of flying

Albert lay a-drying,
Lavishly arrayed,
With his soul out flying

Wild thoughts are always flying,
Like sparks across my brain,
Now flashing out, now dying,

From her curse, shall fall a-dying;
Call me thy empress, Time to see thee
Shall forget his art of flying.

Nothing to match the flight of wild birds flying.
Tiresome heart, forever living and dying,

And a boomerang flying;
Flying, and flying, and flying?
Ah! her heart it is wasted with crying —

We have found safety with all things undying,
The winds, and morning, tears of men and mirth,
The deep night, and birds singing, and clouds flying,

Sliding around in the mud and trying
To catch a football that has been sent flying

Thy loose hair in the light wind flying,
Thy sweet voice to each tone of even
United, and thine eyes replying

O wind, that o'er my head art flying
The way my friends their course did bend,
I should not feel the pain of dying,

"With tattered banners flying
With trail of dead and dying,

The hunter and the flying:
Age clenched his staff, and maiden eyes
Flashed tearful, yet defying.

Mayflower, Mayflower, slowly hither flying,
Trembling westward o'er yon balking sea,
Hearts within `Farewell dear England' sighing,

Speak low and low, along the line the whispered word is flying,
Before the touch, before the time, we may not loose a breath:
Their guns must mash us to the mire and there be no replying,

For their far off flying
From summer dying.

And the noisy murr are flying,
Like black scuds, overhead;
Where in mist the rock is hiding,

For the thing that's flying.
Everywhere he turns,
Men to dust are drying, --

Steeds as tempests flying,
Howling of the distant wolves,
Eagles high, shrill crying!

Who spoke of evil, when young feet were flying
In fairy-rings around the echoing hall
Soft airs thro' braided locks in perfume sighing,

'How can you still be sighing
When smiles are everywhere?
The little birds are flying

And I hear the clang of their leader crying
To a lagging mate in the rearward flying,