The Son Of The Evening Star (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poem)
Can it be the sun descending O'er the level plain of water? Or the Red Swan floating, flying, Wounded by ...
Can it be the sun descending O'er the level plain of water? Or the Red Swan floating, flying, Wounded by ...
Truly ye come of The Blood; slower to bless than to ban; Little used to lie down at the bidding ...
A Load of brushes and baskets and cradles and chairs Labours along the street in the rain: With it a ...
a soft wind through an LA window a goddess of a promised life transparent on the other side begs me ...
The skin of the lake sliced not quite silently the fiberglass keel cutting the waves yet almost still after midnight ...
Slowing my gait walking more slower shimmering light reflected to my eye The blades of the lilies, the leaves of ...
Without the credit without the commercial urgings simpler lives, less possessions choices to focus not on the world but on ...
Their big sister, far down the sidewalk walking purposely around the church Slightly slower, noticing the bright red the sugar ...
Something, I cannot fully explain; but certain and true each time, on the side of the main street the parade ...
A bright, glowing, chartreuse forest, the young leaves radiating color too bright to absorb, as they would in summer the ...
a simple, elegant scene framed out the kitchen window a load of wash hung in the still August air drying ...
Eight silent canoes Pushed off onto the still waters At 2am on a July night. The full moon and stars ...
No Time To think, to plan, to dream, to be ready Reading slower as time goes on Words blur in ...
A slower pace On the Banks Palmettos sway Translucent green Or tawny papyrus brown Mesmerize A northerner Away from the ...
Bright noisy streets Unattached and watching The jazz, the sass, The Street, Bourbon Late April Thick with tourists Easy marks ...
Between the rush and edge In the quiet Slower gentle times I reach for you To hold you Lean into ...
A hole in the wall shop, Counter and seller Plastic cups and pitchers A bit of rum, a bunch of ...
White knuckles on the wheel holding fast to my lane between the wiper strokes and blur of reckless drivers on ...
When the evening darkens and the day cools and the stars flicker to light I sat on the blanket with ...
Brown lived at such a lofty farm That everyone for miles could see His lantern when he did his chores ...
To flee from memory Had we the Wings Many would fly Inured to slower things Birds with surprise Would scan ...
Oh Sumptuous moment Slower go That I may gloat on thee -- 'Twill never be the same to starve Now ...
My Portion is Defeat -- today -- A paler luck than Victory -- Less Paeans -- fewer Bells -- The ...
Except the smaller size No lives are round -- These -- hurry to a sphere And show and end -- ...
One Year ago -- jots what? God -- spell the word! I -- can't -- Was't Grace? Not that -- ...
Whangaehu waters, hot-spilled from the cauldron of Crater Lake, swirling mud-green from the cup between Tahurangi and Pyramid Peak, sulphurous, ...
1/ Genius is not a generous thing In return it charges more interest than any amount of royalties can cover ...
The more we live, more brief appear Our life's succeeding stages; A day to childhood seems a year, And years ...
The moon is full this winter night; The stars are clear, though few; And every window glistens bright, With leaves ...
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