The Breathing (Denise Levertov Poem)
An absolute patience. Trees stand up to their knees in fog. The fog slowly flows uphill. White cobwebs, the grass ...
An absolute patience. Trees stand up to their knees in fog. The fog slowly flows uphill. White cobwebs, the grass ...
I am only nineteen My whole life is changing Tonight I see her Shuttered eyes in my dreams I cannot ...
St. Agnes' Eve--Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limp'd trembling through ...
Love built a stately house, where Fortune came, And spinning fancies, she was heard to say That her fine cobwebs ...
Give way, give way, ye gates, and win An easy blessing to your bin And basket, by our entering in. ...
Where once we danced, where once we sang, Gentlemen, The floors are sunken, cobwebs hang, And cracks creep; worms have ...
When I see birches bend to left and right Across the lines of straighter darker trees, I like to think ...
On Jubilee Day the Ramsbottoms Invited relations to tea, Including young Albert's grandmother- An awkward old . . party, was ...
An imaginary composer.] I. Hist, but a word, fair and soft! Forth and be judged, Master Hugues! Answer the question ...
Some days I am Ana's teacher, some days she is mine. This morning, we look through her kitchen window, the ...
When she came out, that white little Russian dancer, With her bright hair, and her eyes, so young, so young, ...
No, I shall not say why it is that I love you- Why do you ask me, save for vanity? ...
All lovely things will have an ending, All lovely things will fade and die, And youth, that's now so bravely ...
Though Virtue hurt you Vice is nice; Aye, Parson says it's wrong, Yet for my pleasing I'll suffice With Women, ...
As an ant is powerless Against a raised boot, And only has an instant To have a bright idea or ...
I've never ceased to curse the day I signed A seven years' bargain for the Golden Fleece. 'Twas a bad ...
The coach is at the door at last; The eager children, mounting fast And kissing hands, in chorus sing: Good-bye, ...
Mother, among the dustbins and the manure I feel the measure of my humanity, an allure As of the presence ...
SMOKE of the fields in spring is one, Smoke of the leaves in autumn another. Smoke of a steel-mill roof ...
'Twas in a little western town An ancient Maiden dwelt: Her name was MISS, or MISTRESS, Brown, Or DEBORAH, or ...
'Tis hard to say, if greater Want of Skill Appear in Writing or in Judging ill, But, of the two, ...
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