The Cyclists (Amy Lowell Poem)
Spread on the roadway, With open-blown jackets, Like black, soaring pinions, They swoop down the hillside, The Cyclists. Seeming dark-plumaged ...
Spread on the roadway, With open-blown jackets, Like black, soaring pinions, They swoop down the hillside, The Cyclists. Seeming dark-plumaged ...
We boast no more of our bloodless flag, that rose from a nation's slime; Better a shred of a deep-dyed ...
We were all one heart and one race When the Abbey trumpets blew. For a moment's breathing-space We had forgotten ...
As a fisher-boy I fared To the black rock in the sea, And, while false gifts I prepared. Listen'd and ...
I PRELUDE Daughter of Psyche, pledge of that last night When, pierced with pain and bitter-sweet delight, She knew her ...
It pleased the Lord of Angels (praise His name!) To hear, one day, report from those who came With pitying ...
Adrift! A little boat adrift! And night is coming down! Will no one guide a little boat Unto the nearest ...
The sea runs back against itself With scarcely time for breaking wave To cannonade a slatey shelf And thunder under ...
To exalt, enthrone, establish and defend, To welcome home mankind's mysterious friend Wine, true begetter of all arts that be; ...
Oh happy he who cannot see With scientific eyes; Who does not know how flowers grow, And is not planet ...
Some inherit manly beauty, Some come into worldly wealth; Some have lofty sense of duty, Others boast exultant health. Though ...
Lord, let me live, that more and more Your wonder world I may adore; With every dawn to grow and ...
I count each day a little life, With birth and death complete; I cloister it from care and strife And ...
THE MIGHT that shaped itself through storm and stress In chaos, here is lulled in breathing sweet; Under the long ...
HE bent above: so still her breath What air she breathed he could not say, Whether in worlds of life ...
A MAN went forth one day at eve: The long day's toil for him was done: The eye that scanned ...
In my first sleep I came to the river And looked down Through the clear water - Only in dream ...
Now the stock have started dying, for the Lord has sent a drought; But we're sick of prayers and Providence ...
Mindful of you the sodden earth in spring, And all the flowers that in the springtime grow, And dusty roads, ...
[The late Mr. Jonathan Swift Somers, laureate of Spoon River, planned The Spooniad as an epic in twenty-four books, but ...
The quick sparks on the gorse bushes are leaping, Little jets of sunlight-texture imitating flame; Above them, exultant, the peewits ...
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