Pickthorn Manor (Amy Lowell Poem)
I How fresh the Dartle's little waves that day! A steely silver, underlined with blue, And flashing where the round ...
I How fresh the Dartle's little waves that day! A steely silver, underlined with blue, And flashing where the round ...
A near horizon whose sharp jags Cut brutally into a sky Of leaden heaviness, and crags Of houses lift their ...
The rafters are open to sun, moon, and star, Thistles and nettles grow high in the bar -- The chimneys ...
In the market-place of Bruges stands the belfry old and brown; Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded, still it watches o'er ...
Welcome, my old friend, Welcome to a foreign fireside, While the sullen gales of autumn Shake the windows. The ungrateful ...
Smoke, it is all smoke in the throat of eternity. . . . For centuries, the air was full of ...
TOSSING his mane of snows in wildest eddies and tangles, Lion-like March cometh in, hoarse, with tempestuous breath, Through all ...
Give way, give way, ye gates, and win An easy blessing to your bin And basket, by our entering in. ...
After I was finished mowing my lawn noting the sticker affixed to the engine Wishing our whole nation a national ...
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse A persona che mai tornasse al mondo, Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse. Ma ...
The birches stand in their beggar's row: Each poor tree Has had its wrists nearly Torn from the clear sleeves ...
Children of the elemental mother, Born upon some lonely island shore Where the wrinkled ripples run and whisper, Where the ...
The heavy mahogany door with its wrought-iron screen Shuts. And the sound is rich, sympathetic, discreet. The sun still shines ...
AMONGST THE HIGHLY PLACED It is considered low to talk about food. The fact is: they have Already eaten. The ...
Southeast, and storm, and every weathervane shivers and moans upon its dripping pin, ragged on chimneys the cloud whips, the ...
When my mother died I was very young, And my father sold me while yet my tongue, Could scarcely cry ...
I am like a flag in the center of open space. I sense ahead the wind which is coming, and ...
The nights are running out of darkness Steel branches grasp The arms of passers-by Only anonymour chimneys Are free to ...
The air is a mill of hooks -- Questions without answer, Glittering and drunk as flies Whose kiss stings unbearably ...
For the seven lakes, and by no man these verses: Rain; empty river; a voyage, Fire from frozen cloud, heavy ...
I I have loved England, dearly and deeply, Since that first morning, shining and pure, The white cliffs of Dover ...
In your bosom we wake up with fear, In your sky there's only unending tears, You always roar, but within, ...
After two sittings, now our Lady State To end her picture does the third time wait. But ere thou fall'st ...
WRITTEN FOR LORADO TAFT'S STATUE OF BLACK HAWK AT OREGON, ILLINOIS To be given in the manner of the Indian ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories