The Flower Boat (Robert Frost Poem)
The fisherman's swapping a yarn for a yarn Under the hand of the village barber, And her in the angle ...
The fisherman's swapping a yarn for a yarn Under the hand of the village barber, And her in the angle ...
"OH, let's go up the hill and scare ourselves, As reckless as the best of them to-night, By setting fire ...
I let myself in at the kitchen door. "It's you," she said. "I can't get up. Forgive me Not answering ...
Not only sands and gravels Were once more on their travels, But gulping muddy gallons Great boulders off their balance ...
Dust always blowing about the town, Except when sea-fog laid it down, And I was one of the children told ...
I'll tell you the story of Jonah, A really remarkable tale; A peaceful and humdrum existence he had Until one ...
The green grass is growing, The morning wind is in it, 'Tis a tune worth the knowing, Though it change ...
I Midwinter spring is its own season Sempiternal though sodden towards sundown, Suspended in time, between pole and tropic. When ...
as if it were a scene made-up by the mind, that is not mine, but is a made place, that ...
The heavenly hills of Holland,-- How wondrously they rise Above the smooth green pastures Into the azure skies! With blue ...
One in thy thousand statues we salute thee On all thy thousand thrones acclaim and claim Who walk in forest ...
Away, haunt thou me not, Thou vain Philosophy! Little hast thou bestead, Save to perplex the head, And leave the ...
He said it doesn't look good he said it looks bad in fact real bad he said I counted thirty-two ...
On the desert A silence from the moon's deepest valley. Fire rays fall athwart the robes Of hooded men, squat ...
Fast rode the knight With spurs, hot and reeking, Ever waving an eager sword, "To save my lady!" Fast rode ...
When all of a sudden the city air filled with snow, the distinguishable flakes blowing sideways, looked like krill fleeing ...
I wonder how it all got started, this business about seeing your life flash before your eyes while you drown, ...
You are the bread and the knife, The crystal goblet and the wine... -Jacques Crickillon You are the bread and ...
They are both old Boireann and her she wants to remain in the car hunched regarding the other through the ...
Doors were left open in heaven again: drafts wheeze, clouds wrap their ripped pages around roofs and trees. Like wet ...
the people are very small and shrink, dwarves on the way to netsuke hell bound for a flea circus in ...
The sea runs back against itself With scarcely time for breaking wave To cannonade a slatey shelf And thunder under ...
From the geyser ventilators Autumn winds are blowing down On a thousand business women Having baths in Camden Town Waste ...
Ophelia puked hourly dawn till dusk, retching mucous slobber, then spewing air. Scum that I am, I never stopped thinking ...
Writing from Boston, where sky is simply property, a flourish topping crowds of condos and historic real estate, I'm trying ...
"O day! he cannot die When thou so fair art shining! O Sun, in such a glorious sky, So tranquilly ...
Oh! Death will find me, long before I tire Of watching you; and swing me suddenly Into the shade and ...
Hands and lit faces eddy to a line; The dazed last minutes click; the clamour dies. Beyond the great-swung arc ...
Oh! Death will find me, long before I tire Of watching you; and swing me suddenly Into the shade and ...
Safe in the magic of my woods I lay, and watched the dying light. Faint in the pale high solitudes, ...
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