The Broken Mug (John Esten Cooke Poems)
My mug is broken, my heart is sad! What woes can fate still hold in store!The friend I cherished a thousand ...
My mug is broken, my heart is sad! What woes can fate still hold in store!The friend I cherished a thousand ...
IWHEN tulips bloom in Union Square,And timid breaths of vernal air Go wandering down the dusty town,Like children lost in Vanity ...
I have an attic-not city made,Nor far removed from the fresh green earth,Strewn with the tools of a manly trade,And ...
IBluebirds linger here a while,O'er this sacred grassy pile,Sing your sweetest songs to me —'Tis the grave of Eulalie.Roses white, ...
I heard the buds open their lips and whisper, Whisper, ...
April had covered the hills With flickering yellows and reds, The sparkle and coolness of snow Was blown from the ...
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