Fitz Adam’s Story (James Russell Lowell Poems)
The next whose fortune 'twas a tale to tellWas one whom men, before they thought, loved well,And after thinking wondered ...
The next whose fortune 'twas a tale to tellWas one whom men, before they thought, loved well,And after thinking wondered ...
Above the head of great MethuselahThere lay two demons in the opened roofInvisible, and gathered up his words;For when the ...
Such was the Child-World of the long-ago--The little world these children used to know:--Johnty, the oldest, and the best, perhaps,Of ...
I am a man of forty, sirs, a native of East Haddam,And have some reason to surmise that I descend ...
Sparabella.The wailings of a maiden I recite,A maiden fair, that Sparabella hight.Such strains ne'er warble in the linnet's throat,Nor the ...
Frank carves very ill, yet will palm all the meats;He eats more than six, and drinks more than he eats.Four ...
"I - At The Post-Office It was a gray, midwinter afternoon.A noisy wind pursued the fine hard flakesOf blinding snow, ...
I had tramped along through dockland till the day was all but spent,But for all the ships I there did ...
I WAS a youth of studious mind, Fair Science was my mistress kind, And held me with attraction chemic; No ...
First MovementThin-voiced, nasal pipesDrawing sound out and outUntil it is a screeching thread,Sharp and cutting, sharp and cutting,It hurts.Whee-e-e!Bump! Bump! ...
AD PHYLLIDEMHorace: Book IV Ode II"_Est mihi nonum superantis annum_"Phyllis, I've a keg of fine fermented grape juice,Alban wine that's ...
I like to see in graceful row My modest pipes upon the wall,For there they make a dainty show, And ...
WHY is it that the poet tells So little of the sense of smell? These are the odors I love ...
First Movement Thin-voiced, nasal pipes Drawing sound out and out Until it is a screeching thread, Sharp and cutting, sharp ...
1 A yellow band of light upon the street Pours from an open door, and makes a wide Pathway of ...
A little garden on a bleak hillside Where deep the heavy, dazzling mountain snow Lies far into the spring. The ...
They bear, in place of classic names, Letters and numbers on their skin. They play their grisly blindfold games In ...
How straight it flew, how long it flew, It clear'd the rutty track And soaring, disappeared from view Beyond the ...
Filaments of light slant like windswept rain. The orange seller hawks into the sky, a man with a hat stops ...
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