1777 (Amy Lowell Poem)
I The Trumpet-Vine Arbour The throats of the little red trumpet-flowers are wide open, And the clangour of brass beats ...
I The Trumpet-Vine Arbour The throats of the little red trumpet-flowers are wide open, And the clangour of brass beats ...
We boast no more of our bloodless flag, that rose from a nation's slime; Better a shred of a deep-dyed ...
In his lodge beside a river, Close beside a frozen river, Sat an old man, sad and lonely. White his ...
In the ancient town of Bruges, In the quaint old Flemish city, As the evening shades descended, Low and loud ...
WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST. Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but ...
Yearly, with tent and rifle, our careless white men go By the Pass called Muttianee, to shoot in the vale ...
Marching Song of a Roman Legion of the Later Empire Enlarged From "Puck of Pook's Hill" When I left Rome ...
We've got the cholerer in camp -- it's worse than forty fights; We're dyin' in the wilderness the same as ...
1901 ". . . and will supply details to guard the Blood River Bridge." District Orders-Lines of Communication, South African ...
High the vanes of Shrewsbury gleam Islanded in Severn stream; The bridges from the steepled crest Cross the water east ...
Cloud-puffball, torn tufts, tossed pillows ' flaunt forth, then chevy on an air- built thoroughfare: heaven-roysterers, in gay-gangs ' they ...
THOUGHTS ON JESUS CHRIST'S DESCENT INTO HELL. [THE remarkable Poem of which this is a literal but faint representation, was ...
Then a ploughman said, "Speak to us of Work." And he answered, saying: You work that you may keep pace ...
What does it mean that his first friend was an imaginary friend? How did that fact shape his world and ...
Since the Road of Life's so ill; I, to pass it, use this Skill, My frail Carriage driving home To ...
I met a lady from the South who said (You won't believe she said it, but she said it): "None ...
Thy trivial harp will never please Or fill my craving ear; Its chords should ring as blows the breeze, Free, ...
I Thy trivial harp will never please Or fill my craving ear; Its chords should ring as blows the breeze, ...
Listen, The wind is still, And far away in the night -- See! The uplands fill With a running light. ...
Whangaehu waters, hot-spilled from the cauldron of Crater Lake, swirling mud-green from the cup between Tahurangi and Pyramid Peak, sulphurous, ...
When all the stars are sown Across the night-blue space, With the immense unknown, In silence face to face. We ...
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children, England mourns for her dead across the sea. Flesh of her flesh ...
In early morning twilight, raw and chill, Damp vapours brooding on the barren hill, Through miles of mire in steady ...
Coldly, sadly descends The autumn-evening. The field Strewn with its dank yellow drifts Of wither'd leaves, and the elms, Fade ...
Tell me not in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream!— For the soul is dead that slumbers, And ...
UPON that night, when fairies light On Cassilis Downans 2 dance, Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze, On sprightly ...
Frost apple on a knotted whirling bough of dark becoming where it cannot be. So much both for the soil ...
'Twas in the year of 1808, and in the autumn of the year, Napoleon resolved to crush Spain and Portugal ...
Under yonder beech-tree single on the green-sward, Couched with her arms behind her golden head, Knees and tresses folded to ...
So spake the Son of God; and Satan stood A while as mute, confounded what to say, What to reply, ...
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