The Great Adventure of Max Breuck (Amy Lowell Poem)
1 A yellow band of light upon the street Pours from an open door, and makes a wide Pathway of ...
1 A yellow band of light upon the street Pours from an open door, and makes a wide Pathway of ...
Yes, long shadows go out from the bales; and yes, the soul must part from the body: what else could ...
Let the light of late afternoon shine through chinks in the barn, moving up the bales as the sun moves ...
When spring-time flushes the desert grass, Our kafilas wind through the Khyber Pass. Lean are the camels but fat the ...
Foundered March 24. 1878 1 The Eurydice-it concerned thee, O Lord: Three hundred souls, O alas! on board, Some asleep ...
The field, positioned, placed granite hay bales, as if harvested grown from the soil, the crop of the farmer bundled ...
Archery is meant for fields, for forest for targets, for skill which we lacked and we had loose bales easily ...
Shall I woo the one or other? Both attract me--more's the pity! Pretty is the widowed mother, And the daughter, ...
EVERYTHING is jazz: snails, jails, rails, tails, males, females, snow-white cotton bales. Knee-bone, thigh, hip-bone. Jazz slips you percussion bone ...
This -- is the land -- the Sunset washes -- These -- are the Banks of the Yellow Sea -- ...
I like the old house tolerably well, Where I must dwell Like a familiar gnome; And yet I never shall ...
Now that I have your face by heart, I look Less at its features than its darkening frame Where quince ...
Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill; Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes! No longer leave thy ...
On the Erie Canal, it was, All on a summer's day, I sailed forth with my parents Far away to ...
Come, brother, come. Lets lift it; come now, hewit! roll away! Shackles fall upon the Judgment Day But lets not ...
A born salesman, my father made all his dough by selling wool to Fieldcrest, Woolrich and Faribo. A born talker, ...
Do you remember once, in Paris of glad faces, The night we wandered off under the third moon's rays And, ...
The track that led to Carmody's is choked and overgrown, The suckers of the stringybark have made the place their ...
'Twas on a Monday morning, and in the year of 1884, That a fire broke out in Bailie Bradford's store, ...
Unspeakable. The word that fills up the poem, that the head tries to excise. At 6 a.m., the wet lion. ...
A Story of Christmas Eve. Strange that the termagant winds should scold The Christmas Eve so bitterly! But Wife, and ...
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