The Quarrel (Stanley Kunitz Poem)
The word I spoke in anger weighs less than a parsley seed, but a road runs through it that leads ...
The word I spoke in anger weighs less than a parsley seed, but a road runs through it that leads ...
Each of us, irregular stones, living stones, for the kingdom each with a place, a part to place to build ...
Staring at the glass the panes in the frame bubbles and waves thinning viscous skin of irregular glass beautiful in ...
Streets of stone irregular, throw your ankle streets, side streets, fun streets, where hidden treasures lie in the middle of ...
Broken lines, walls in need of mending What would Frost say, or his good neighbor, behind mended walls? New England ...
High above the reach of the sea, where the brackish water is almost clear, Tectonic plates of ice released by ...
There were three in the meadow by the brook Gathering up windrows, piling cocks of hay, With an eye always ...
I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots; Her coat is of the tabby kind, with tiger ...
As sure as prehistoric fish grew legs and sauntered off the beaches into forests working up some irregular verbs for ...
Sir, since the last Elizabethan died, Or, rather, that more Paradisal muse, Blind with much light, passed to the light ...
How can we find? how can we rest? how can We, being gods, win joy, or peace, being man? We, ...
His mother goes. The mother comes & goes. Chen Lung's too came, came and crampt & then that dragoner's mother ...
Of all the streets that blur in to the sunset, There must be one (which, I am not sure) That ...
Out on the high "bird islands," Ciboux and Hertford, the razorbill auks and the silly-looking puffins all stand with their ...
Water ruffled and speckled by galloping wind Which puffs and spurts it into tiny pashing breaks Dashed with lemon-yellow afternoon ...
As Parmigianino did it, the right hand Bigger than the head, thrust at the viewer And swerving easily away, as ...
Good-by to you whom I shall see tomorrow, Next year and when I'm fifty; still good-by. This is the leave ...
I I dream of journeys repeatedly: Of flying like a bat deep into a narrowing tunnel Of driving alone, without ...
Now this particular girl During a ceremonious april walk With her latest suitor Found herself, of a sudden, intolerably struck ...
It was somewhere up the country, in a land of rock and scrub, That they formed an institution called the ...
I feel Very much Like taking Its unholy perpetrators By the hair Of their heads (If they have any hair) ...
Now Morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl, When Adam waked, so ...
The winter sun, golden and tired, settles on the irregular army of bottles. Outside the trucks jostle toward the open ...
from an officer's diary during the last war I The sour daylight cracks through my sleep-caked lids. "Stephan! Stephan!" The ...
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