The Thread (Denise Levertov Poem)
Something is very gently, invisibly, silently, pulling at me-a thread or net of threads finer than cobweb and as elastic. ...
Something is very gently, invisibly, silently, pulling at me-a thread or net of threads finer than cobweb and as elastic. ...
Oh, very gloomy is the house of woe, Where tears are falling while the bell is knelling, With all the ...
THE FAIRY TEMPLE; OR, OBERON'S CHAPEL DEDICATED TO MR JOHN MERRIFIELD, COUNSELLOR AT LAW RARE TEMPLES THOU HAST SEEN, I ...
The battle rent a cobweb diamond-strung And cut a flower beside a ground bird's nest Before it stained a single ...
To hang our head -- ostensibly -- And subsequent, to find That such was not the posture Of our immortal ...
I had not minded -- Walls -- Were Universe -- one Rock -- And far I heard his silver Call ...
How many times these low feet staggered -- Only the soldered mouth can tell -- Try -- can you stir ...
Crumbling is not an instant's Act A fundamental pause Dilapidation's processes Are organized Decays. 'Tis first a Cobweb on the ...
A few minutes ago, I stepped onto the deck of the house. From there I could see and hear the ...
Come queen of months in company Wi all thy merry minstrelsy The restless cuckoo absent long And twittering swallows chimney ...
And what is Life? An hour-glass on the run, A mist retreating from the morning sun, A busy, bustling, still-repeated ...
The moon in the bureau mirror looks out a million miles (and perhaps with pride, at herself, but she never, ...
See, as the carver carves a rose, A wing, a toad, a serpent's eye, In cruel granite, to disclose The ...
I The girl in the room beneath Before going to bed Strums on a mandolin The three simple tunes she ...
Beloved, let us once more praise the rain. Let us discover some new alphabet, For this, the often praised; and ...
I Partly to think, more to be left alone, George Annandale said something to his friends- A word or two, ...
Shut, shut the door, good John! fatigu'd, I said, Tie up the knocker, say I'm sick, I'm dead. The dog-star ...
A dream tree, Polly's tree: a thicket of sticks, each speckled twig ending in a thin-paned leaf unlike any other ...
Frost apple on a knotted whirling bough of dark becoming where it cannot be. So much both for the soil ...
In the painting, I'm seated in a shield, coming home in it up a shadowy river. It is a small ...
Not, where the stairway turns in the dark, A hooded figure, shriveled under a flowing cloak! Not yellow eyes in ...
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