Nuit Blanche (Amy Lowell Poems)
I want no horns to rouse me up to-night, And trumpets make too clamorous a ring To fit my mood, ...
I want no horns to rouse me up to-night, And trumpets make too clamorous a ring To fit my mood, ...
I How fresh the Dartle's little waves that day! A steely silver, underlined with blue, And flashing where the round ...
I How the slates of the roof sparkle in the sun, over there, over there, beyond the high wall! How ...
1 A yellow band of light upon the street Pours from an open door, and makes a wide Pathway of ...
Slowly, without force, the rain drops into the city. It stops a moment on the carved head of Saint John, ...
I Frindsbury, Kent, 1786 Bang! Bang! Tap! Tap-a-tap! Rap! All through the lead and silver Winter days, All through the ...
Pale, with the blue of high zeniths, shimmered over with silver, brocaded In smooth, running patterns, a soft stuff, with ...
The little boy pressed his face against the window-pane and looked out at the bright sunshiny morning. The cobble-stones of ...
Part First Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut the door. A storm was rising, heavy gusts of wind Swirled through the trees, ...
Gushing from the mouths of stone men To spread at ease under the sky In granite-lipped basins, Where iris dabble ...
I The Trumpet-Vine Arbour The throats of the little red trumpet-flowers are wide open, And the clangour of brass beats ...
I Hoops Blue and pink sashes, Criss-cross shoes, Minna and Stella run out into the garden To play at hoop. ...
A drifting, April, twilight sky, A wind which blew the puddles dry, And slapped the river into waves That ran ...
Oh! To be a flower Nodding in the sun, Bending, then upspringing As the breezes run; Holding up A scent-brimmed ...
Who shall declare the joy of the running! Who shall tell of the pleasures of flight! Springing and spurning the ...
When you, my Dear, are away, away, How wearily goes the creeping day. A year drags after morning, and night ...
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