The Painter on Silk (Amy Lowell Poem)
There was a man Who made his living By painting roses Upon silk. He sat in an upper chamber And ...
There was a man Who made his living By painting roses Upon silk. He sat in an upper chamber And ...
'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor With a hairy gold crown on 'er 'ead? She 'as ships on ...
The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone; 'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is ...
"What are the bugles blowin' for?" said Files-on-Parade. "To turn you out, to turn you out", the Colour-Sergeant said. "What ...
You may talk o' gin and beer When you're quartered safe out 'ere, An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot ...
Bid adieu, adieu, adieu, Bid adieu to girlish days, Happy Love is come to woo Thee and woo thy girlish ...
WHAT have I done for you, England, my England? What is there I would not do, England, my own? With ...
On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like ...
To James First Bishop of Shrewsbury on the 25th Year of his Episcopate July 28. 1876 1 THOUGH no high-hung ...
Sam Small had retired from the Army, In the old Duke of Wellington's time, So when present unpleasantness started, He ...
Talk not to me of Summer Trees The foliage of the mind A Tabernacle is for Birds Of no corporeal ...
Death is the supple Suitor That wins at last -- It is a stealthy Wooing Conducted first By pallid innuendoes ...
I Soul, what art thou in the tribes of the sea? LORD, said a flying fish, Below the foundations of ...
Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead! There's none of these so lonely and poor of old, But, dying, ...
Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead! There's none of these so lonely and poor of old, But, dying, ...
Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead! There's none of these so lonely and poor of old, But, dying, ...
Through Alpine meadows soft-suffused With rain, where thick the crocus blows, Past the dark forges long disused, The mule-track from ...
I LOOKED one night, and there the Semiramis, With all her mourning doves about her head, Sat rocking on an ...
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? Only the monstrous anger of the guns. Only the stuttering rifles' rapid ...
Halted against the shade of a last hill, They fed, and, lying easy, were at ease And, finding comfortable chests ...
Ye Sons of Great Britain, pray list to me, And I'll tell ye of a great victory. Where the British ...
King Shuac, the Giant of Mizra, war did declare Against Ulva, King of Shina, telling him to prepare And be ...
In a lone valley fair and far, Where many sweet beguilements are, I know a spot to lag and dream ...
King Arthur's men have come again. They challenge everywhere The ...
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