After Hearing a Waltz by Bartok (Amy Lowell Poem)
But why did I kill him? Why? Why? In the small, gilded room, near the stair? My ears rack and ...
But why did I kill him? Why? Why? In the small, gilded room, near the stair? My ears rack and ...
1 A yellow band of light upon the street Pours from an open door, and makes a wide Pathway of ...
The men kept to themselves: they were waiting for the swiftness of the last cyclists. The women kept to themselves: ...
(For Warren Winslow, Dead At Sea) Let man have dominion over the fishes of the sea and the fowls of ...
On the shores of Gitche Gumee, Of the shining Big-Sea-Water, Stood Nokomis, the old woman, Pointing with her finger westward, ...
On Fridays he'd open a can of Jax After coming home from the mill, & ask me to write a ...
1 On my way home from school up tribal Providence Hill past the Academy ballpark where I could never hope ...
There was a strife 'twixt man and maid-- Oh, that was at the birth of time! But what befell 'twixt ...
leaves and leaving call october home her daughter releases wood smoke from her skin rich in scorpio blood survived the ...
Terrifying are the attent sleek thrushes on the lawn, More coiled steel than living - a poised Dark deadly eye, ...
'Mid my gold-brown curls There twined a silver hair: I plucked it idly out And scarcely knew 'twas there. Coiled ...
I The cloud my bed is tinged with blood and foam. The vault yet blazes with the sun Writhing above ...
I The cloud my bed is tinged with blood and foam. The vault yet blazes with the sun Writhing above ...
PART I 'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock And the owls have awakened the crowing cock; Tu-whit!- ...
Part I It is an ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three. 'By thy long grey beard and glittering ...
I. You're my friend: I was the man the Duke spoke to; I helped the Duchess to cast off his ...
This is just a place: we go around, distanced, yearly in a star's atmosphere, turning daily into and out of ...
We, unaccustomed to courage exiles from delight live coiled in shells of loneliness until love leaves its high holy temple ...
Look here's that uninvited Alien presence look it's here A shudder on the ocean of tea in the cup Rust ...
The woman is perfected Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment, The illusion of a Greek necessity Flows in ...
When I got to his marker, I sat on it, like sitting on the edge of someone's bed and I ...
A step-mother drove me from home, embittering me. A squaw-man, a flaneur and dilettante took my virtue. For years I ...
A Fantasy, dedicated to the little poet Alice Oliver Henderson, ten years old. The Fantasy shows how tiger-hearts are the ...
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