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 ...
I will let loose against you the fleet-footed vines-- I will call in the Jungle to stamp out your lines! ...
When spring-time flushes the desert grass, Our kafilas wind through the Khyber Pass. Lean are the camels but fat the ...
I AM now,--what joy to hear it!-- Of the old magician rid; And henceforth shall ev'ry spirit Do whate'er by ...
Children, if you dare to think Of the greatness, rareness, muchness Fewness of this precious only Endless world in which ...
I LATELY vowed to leave the nuns alone, So oft their freaks have in my page been shown. The subject ...
'A letter from my love to-day! Oh, unexpected, dear appeal!' She struck a happy tear away, And broke the crimson ...
I'll tell you how the Sun rose -- A Ribbon at a time -- The Steeples swam in Amethyst -- ...
He said that he had hurt himself on a wall or that he had fallen. But there was probably another ...
What is she writing? Watch her now, How fast her fingers move ! How eagerly her youthful brow Is bent ...
All things within this fading world hath end, Adversity doth still our joys attend; No ties so strong, no friends ...
WHITE maiden with the russet hair, Whose garments, through their holes, declare That poverty is part of you, And beauty ...
The rain set early in tonight, The sullen wind was soon awake, It tore the elm-tops down for spite, And ...
After yesterday afternoon's blue clouds and white rain the mockingbird in the backyard untied the drops from leaves and twigs ...
1 Faster, faster, 2 O Circe, Goddess, 3 Let the wild, thronging train 4 The bright procession 5 Of eddying ...
The Youth Faster, faster, O Circe, Goddess, Let the wild, thronging train The bright procession Of eddying forms, Sweep through ...
ONE hour to madness and joy! O furious! O confine me not! (What is this that frees me so in ...
Not that I always struck the proper mean Of what mankind must give for what they gain, But, when I ...
Calm was the day, and through the trembling air Sweet-breathing Zephyrus did softly play A gentle spirit, that lightly did ...
You've asked me what the lobster is weaving there with his golden feet? I reply, the ocean knows this. You ...
How oft has the Benshee cried, How oft has death untied Bright links that Glory wove, Sweet bonds entwined by ...
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