A Summer’s Dream (Elizabeth Bishop Poems)
To the sagging wharffew ships could come.The population numberedtwo giants, an idiot, a dwarf,a gentle storekeeperasleep behind his counter,and our ...
To the sagging wharffew ships could come.The population numberedtwo giants, an idiot, a dwarf,a gentle storekeeperasleep behind his counter,and our ...
I am in need of music that would flowOver my fretful, feeling fingertips,Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,With melody, deep, clear, ...
We must admire her perfect aim,this huntress of the winter airwhose level weapon needs no sight,if it were not that ...
I am too big. Too big by far. Pity me. My eyes bulge and hurt. They are my one great ...
Half squatter, half tenant (no rent)- a sort of inheritance; white, in your thirties now, and supposed to supply me ...
Oh, why should a hen have been run over on West 4th Street in the middle of summer? She was ...
On the unbreathing sides of hills they play, a specklike girl and boy, alone, but near a specklike house. The ...
Out on the high "bird islands," Ciboux and Hertford, the razorbill auks and the silly-looking puffins all stand with their ...
Across the floor flits the mechanical toy, fit for a king of several centuries back. A little circus horse with ...
I A washing hangs upon the line, but it's not mine. None of the things that I can see belong ...
Alone on the railroad track I walked with pounding heart. The ties were too close together or maybe too far ...
Think of the storm roaming the sky uneasily like a dog looking for a place to sleep in, listen to ...
I can make out the rigging of a schooner a mile off; I can count the new cones on the ...
This is not my home. How did I get so far from water? It must be over that way somewhere. ...
On the fair green hills of Rio There grows a fearful stain: The poor who come to Rio And can't ...
Here is a coast; here is a harbor; here, after a meager diet of horizon, is some scenery: impractically shaped ...
The brown enormous odor he lived by was too close, with its breathing and thick hair, for him to judge. ...
You won't become a gourmet* cook By studying our Fannie's book-- Her thoughts on Food & Keeping House Are scarcely ...
This is the house of Bedlam. This is the man that lies in the house of Bedlam. This is the ...
Wasted, wasted minutes that couldn't be worse, minutes of a barbaric condescension. --Stare out the bathroom window at the fir-trees, ...
I live only here, between your eyes and you, But I live in your world. What do I do? --Collect ...
This celestial seascape, with white herons got up as angels, flying high as they want and as far as they ...
Remembering the Strait of Belle Isle or some northerly harbor of Labrador, before he became a schoolteacher a great-uncle painted ...
From Brooklyn, over the Brooklyn Bridge, on this fine morning, please come flying. In a cloud of fiery pale chemicals, ...
Now can you see the monument? It is of wood built somewhat like a box. No. Built like several boxes ...
It is so peaceful on the ceiling! It is the Place de la Concorde. The little crystal chandelier is off, ...
I am in need of music that would flow Over my fretful, feeling finger-tips, Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips, With ...
The rain has stopped. The waterfall will roar like that all night. I have come out to take a walk ...
The roaring alongside he takes for granted, and that every so often the world is bound to shake. He runs, ...
Hidden, oh hidden in the high fog the house we live in, beneath the magnetic rock, rain-, rainbow-ridden, where blood-black ...
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