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 ...
Shove off from the wharf-edge! Steady! Watch for a smooth! Give way! If she feels the lop already She'll stand ...
I know the rules and hear myself agree Not to invest beyond this one night stand. I know your patter: ...
MANY a day and night my bark stood ready laden; Waiting fav'ring winds, I sat with true friends round me, ...
Long long ago I went through the castle of leaves Yellowing slowly in the moss And far away barnacles clung ...
Who ever loves, if he do not propose The right true end of love, he's one that goes To sea ...
'Tis true, dear Ben, thy just chastising hand Hath fix'd upon the sotted age a brand To their swoll'n pride ...
While you walk the water's edge, turning over concepts I can't envision, the honking buoy serves notice that at any ...
PART I On Susquehanna's side, fair Wyoming! Although the wild-flower on thy ruin'd wall, And roofless homes, a sad remembrance ...
I am: yet what I am none cares or knows My friends forsake me like a memory lost, I am ...
Between the green bud and the red Youth sat and sang by Time, and shed From eyes and tresses flowers ...
Before those cruel twins whom at one birth Incestuous Change bore to her father Time, Error and Truth, had hunted ...
"Throughout these infinite orbs of mingling light, Of which yon earth is one, is wide diffus'd A Spirit of activity ...
You are a friend then, as I make it out, Of our man Shakespeare, who alone of us Will put ...
When the brethren heard of us, they came to meet us as far as Appii Forum, and The Three Taverns.-(Acts ...
'Twas on a Mountain, near the Western Main An ALIEN dwelt. A solitary Hut Built on a jutting crag, o'erhung ...
Upon a lonely desart Beach Where the white foam was scatter'd, A little shed uprear'd its head Though lofty Barks ...
There are cemeteries that are lonely, graves full of bones that do not make a sound, the heart moving through ...
My clumsiest dear, whose hands shipwreck vases, At whose quick touch all glasses chip and ring, Whose palms are bulls ...
All other joys of life he strove to warm, And magnify, and catch them to his lip: But they had ...
Like the vain curlings of the watery maze, Which in smooth streams a sinking weight does raise, So Man, declining ...
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