Pickthorn Manor (Amy Lowell Poem)
I How fresh the Dartle's little waves that day! A steely silver, underlined with blue, And flashing where the round ...
I How fresh the Dartle's little waves that day! A steely silver, underlined with blue, And flashing where the round ...
Cross-hatchings of rain against grey walls, Slant lines of black rain In front of the up and down, wet stone ...
A drifting, April, twilight sky, A wind which blew the puddles dry, And slapped the river into waves That ran ...
Bath The day is fresh-washed and fair, and there is a smell of tulips and narcissus in the air. The ...
Two old Bachelors were living in one house; One caught a Muffin, the other caught a Mouse. Said he who ...
He had offices in Sydney, not so many years ago, And his shingle bore the legend `Peter Anderson and Co.', ...
Oranges do not grow in the sea neither is there love in Sevilla. You in Dark and the I the ...
Despite the noon sun shimmering on Court Street, each day I leave my desk, and window-shop, waste time, and use ...
The words of the screen "steamers for lunch, foggy day on the ocean" so much cascading memory flooding over me, ...
The smell of the brook trout percolated out from the tin foil, the butter and lemon joining the fresh catch, ...
Looking our the window there was movement on the edge the edge of the fog of the morning Three deer ...
Sweet maple syrup, bitter radish, salad greens Tart lemon, juicy fruits Sour rhubarb, creamy sauces Raw meat, flaky fish rich ...
A hole in the wall shop, Counter and seller Plastic cups and pitchers A bit of rum, a bunch of ...
WHEN Mr. Apollinax visited the United States His laughter tinkled among the teacups. I thought of Fragilion, that shy figure ...
I hadn't had the 'flu in ages, avoided all those awful places fraught of gritty eyes and splitting heads, patrons ...
SEA, SEA RIDER The man who owned the bookstore was not magic. He was not a three-legged crow on the ...
Foes I sniff, when I have less to shout or murmur. Pals alone enormous sounds downward & up bring real. ...
Two girls there are : within the house One sits; the other, without. Daylong a duet of shade and light ...
My thoughts are crabbed and sallow, My tears like vinegar, Or the bitter blinking yellow Of an acetic star. Tonight ...
Pure? What does it mean? The tongues of hell Are dull, dull as the triple Tongues of dull, fat Cerebus ...
Color of lemon, mango, peach, These storybook villas Still dream behind Shutters, thier balconies Fine as hand- Made lace, or ...
I am Ebenezer Bleezer, I run BLEEZER'S ICE CREAM STORE, there are flavors in my freezer you have never seen ...
From blossoms released by the moonlight, from an aroma of exasperated love, steeped in fragrance, yellowness drifted from the lemon ...
Out of lemon flowers loosed on the moonlight, love's lashed and insatiable essences, sodden with fragrance, the lemon tree's yellow ...
The lemon sunlight poured out far between things inhabits a coolness. Mosquitoes have subsided, flies are for later heat. Every ...
Comes to mind as another small upheaval amongst the rubble. His eye matches exactly the bubble in my spirit-level. I ...
I was making my way home late one night this summer, when I staggered into a snow drift. Her eyes ...
I like divorce. I love to compose letters of resignation; now and then I send one in and leave in ...
Your words dropped into my heart like pebbles into a pool, Rippling around my breast and leaving it melting cool. ...
Four bright steel crosses, universal joints, plucked out of the burlap sack -- "the heart of the drive train," the ...
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