Conquistador (Alec Derwent Hope Poem)
I sing of the decline of Henry Clay Who loved a white girl of uncommon size. Although a small man ...
I sing of the decline of Henry Clay Who loved a white girl of uncommon size. Although a small man ...
The nights have grown cool again, like the nights Of early spring, and quiet again. Will Speech disturb you? We're ...
There was an apple tree in the yard -- this would have been forty years ago -- behind, only meadows. ...
And now it was evening. And Almitra the seeress said, "Blessed be this day and this place and your spirit ...
Preserved, as if still alive under the hard-packed white the drifts, the dunes covering the cars in white Like mammoths ...
Within our houses the world around shut down nature bringing forth its wrath we are hunkered down the snow piling ...
As bamboo chill drifts into the bedroom, Moonlight fills every corner of our Garden. Heavy dew beads and trickles. Stars ...
Above the tower -- a lone, twice-sized moon. On the cold river passing night-filled homes, It scatters restless gold across ...
WHEN the wind works against us in the dark, And pelts with snow The lowest chamber window on the east, ...
Where the slow river meets the tide, a red swan lifts red wings and darker beak, and underneath the purple ...
The Snow that never drifts -- The transient, fragrant snow That comes a single time a Year Is softly driving ...
The Color of the Grave is Green -- The Outer Grave -- I mean -- You would not know it ...
I think just how my shape will rise -- When I shall be "forgiven" -- Till Hair -- and Eyes ...
This was in the White of the Year -- That -- was in the Green -- Drifts were as difficult ...
I hadn't had the 'flu in ages, avoided all those awful places fraught of gritty eyes and splitting heads, patrons ...
It seldom snowed in Camp they said, on the mountains, yes, and in the Styx, aka zone six. That's where ...
I The rutted roads are all like iron; skies Are keen and brilliant; only the oak-leaves cling In the bare ...
It's what the kids nowadays call weed. And it drifts like clouds from his lips. He hopes no one comes ...
Part I It is an ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three. 'By thy long grey beard and glittering ...
Today we woke up to a revolution of snow, its white flag waving over everything, the landscape vanished, not a ...
Those moments, tasted once and never done, Of long surf breaking in the mid-day sun. A far-off blow-hole booming like ...
Of the old house, only a few, crumbled Courses of brick, smothered in nettle and dock, Or a shaped stone ...
(France -- Ancient Regime.) I. Go away! Go away; I will not confess to you! His black biretta clings like ...
Tobacco smoke drifts up to the dim ceiling From half a dozen pipes and cigarettes, Curling in endless shapes, in ...
Si credere dignum est.--Virgil, Georgics, III, 390 Oh, worthy of belief I hold it was, Virgil, your legend in those ...
Wind blows. Snow falls. The great clock in its tower Ticks with reverberant coil and tolls the hour: At the ...
I turn the page and read: "I dream of silent verses where the rhyme Glides noiseless as an oar." The ...
As Parmigianino did it, the right hand Bigger than the head, thrust at the viewer And swerving easily away, as ...
Coldly, sadly descends The autumn-evening. The field Strewn with its dank yellow drifts Of wither'd leaves, and the elms, Fade ...
I GAT your letter, winsome Willie; Wi' gratefu' heart I thank you brawlie; Tho' I maun say't, I wad be ...
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