The Pekingese (Elinor Wylie Poems)
For a picture This Pekingese, that makes the sand-grains spin, Is digging little tunnels to Pekin: Dream him emerging in ...
For a picture This Pekingese, that makes the sand-grains spin, Is digging little tunnels to Pekin: Dream him emerging in ...
My love came up from Barnegat, The sea was in his eyes; He trod as softly as a cat And ...
Allegra, rising from her canopied dreams, Slides both white feet across the slanted beams Which lace the peacock jalousies: behold ...
If we must cheat ourselves with any dream, Then let it be a dream of nobleness: Since it is necessary ...
This is the bricklayer; hear the thud Of his heavy load dumped down on stone. His lustrous bricks are brighter ...
The headlights raced; the moon, death-faced, Stared down on that golden river. I saw through the smoke the scarlet cloak ...
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