The Great Adventure of Max Breuck (Amy Lowell Poem)
1 A yellow band of light upon the street Pours from an open door, and makes a wide Pathway of ...
1 A yellow band of light upon the street Pours from an open door, and makes a wide Pathway of ...
In frames as large as rooms that face all ways And block the ends of streets with giant loaves, Screen ...
What do they think has happened, the old fools, To make them like this? Do they somehow suppose It's more ...
So you rode from the range where your brothers "select," Through the ghostly grey bush in the dawn--- You rode ...
The young Endymion sleeps Endymion's sleep; The shepherd-boy whose tale was left half told! The solemn grove uplifts its shield ...
(A. D. 1200) Of all the trees that grow so fair, Old England to adorn, Greater are none beneath the ...
O Winter! frozen pulse and heart of fire, What loss is theirs who from thy kingdom turn Dismayed, and think ...
I awoke in the Midsummer not to call night, in the white and the walk of the morning: The moon, ...
To grow old is to lose everything. Aging, everybody knows it. Even when we are young, we glimpse it sometimes, ...
We sit late, watching the dark slowly unfold: No clock counts this. When kisses are repeated and the arms hold ...
My mother's playing cards with my aunt, Spite and Malice, the family pastime, the game my grandmother taught all her ...
I Like a gaunt, scraggly pine Which lifts its head above the mournful sandhills; And patiently, through dull years of ...
I fish for words to say what I fish for, half-catch sometimes. I have caught little pan fish flashing sunlight ...
Thousand minstrels woke within me, "Our music's in the hills; "- Gayest pictures rose to win me, Leopard-colored rills. Up!-If ...
I Alphonso live and learn, Seeing nature go astern. Things deteriorate in kind, Lemons run to leaves and rind, Meagre ...
In your mother's apple-orchard, Just a year ago, last spring: Do you remember, Yvonne! The dear trees lavishing Rain of ...
Midsummer, was it, when They died -- A full, and perfect time -- The Summer closed upon itself In Consummated ...
I think to Live -- may be a Bliss To those who dare to try -- Beyond my limit to ...
(Translated from the French by Edouard Rodti) My wife with the hair of a wood fire With the thoughts of ...
'Twas after dread Pultowa's day, When fortune left the royal Swede - Around a slaughtered army lay, No more to ...
I am poor brother Lippo, by your leave! You need not clap your torches to my face. Zooks, what's to ...
How changed is here each spot man makes or fills! In the two Hinkseys nothing keeps the same; The village ...
In the long journey out of the self, There are many detours, washed-out interrupted raw places Where the shale slides ...
There is the caw of a crow, And the hesitant song of a thrush. There is the tinkle of a ...
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