Wiltshire Downs (Andrew Young Poems)
The cuckoo's double noteLoosened like bubbles from a drowning throatFloats through the airIn mockery of pipit, lark and stare.The stable-boys ...
The cuckoo's double noteLoosened like bubbles from a drowning throatFloats through the airIn mockery of pipit, lark and stare.The stable-boys ...
We have tested and tasted too much, lover- Through a chink too wide there comes in no wonder. But here ...
God gave all men all earth to love, But, since our hearts are small Ordained for each one spot should ...
A Brother and Sister O I admire and sorrow! The heart's eye grieves Discovering you, dark tramplers, tyrant years. A ...
I awoke in the Midsummer not to call night, in the white and the walk of the morning: The moon, ...
But my Hiawatha's patience, His politeness and his patience, Unaccountably had vanished, And he left that happy party. Neither did ...
From his shoulder Hiawatha Took the camera of rosewood, Made of sliding, folding rosewood; Neatly put it all together. In ...
From his shoulder Hiawatha Took the camera of rosewood, Made of sliding, folding rosewood; Neatly put it all together. In ...
"Had we never loved so kindly, Had we never loved so blindly, Never met or never parted, We had ne'er ...
"Had we never loved so kindly, Had we never loved so blindly, Never met or never parted, We had ne'er ...
Who killed John Keats? 'I,' says the Quarterly, So savage and Tartarly; ''Twas one of my feats.' Who shot the ...
S. Patrick. You who are bent, and bald, and blind, With a heavy heart and a wandering mind, Have known ...
Why should this Negro insolently stride Down the red noonday on such noiseless feet? Piled in his barrow, tawnier than ...
so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain water beside the white chickens. (William Carlos Williams)
for Brenda Williams The dawn cracked with ice, with fire grumbling in the grate, With ire in the homes we ...
Long lines of cliff breaking have left a chasm; And in the chasm are foam and yellow sands; Beyond, red ...
My Pa and Ma their honeymoon Passed in an Andulasian June, And though produced in Drury Lane, I must have ...
Mad Patsy said, he said to me, That every morning he could see An angel walking on the sky; Across ...
The gardener does not love to talk, He makes me keep the gravel walk; And when he puts his tools ...
We who travel between worlds lose our muscle and bone. I was wheeling a barrow of earth when agony bayoneted ...
I climbed up the karaka tree Into a nest all made of leaves But soft as feathers. I made up ...
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