The Bombardment (Amy Lowell Poem)
Slowly, without force, the rain drops into the city. It stops a moment on the carved head of Saint John, ...
Slowly, without force, the rain drops into the city. It stops a moment on the carved head of Saint John, ...
If the water were clear enough, if the water were still, but the water is not clear, the water is ...
Elected Silence, sing to me And beat upon my whorlèd ear, Pipe me to pastures still and be The music ...
When wilt thou wake, O Mother, wake and see - As one who, held in trance, has laboured long By ...
I "O Lord, why grievest Thou? - Since Life has ceased to be Upon this globe, now cold As lunar ...
Good Father!. 'Twas an eve in middle June, And war was waged anew By great Napoleon, who for years had ...
She gives him his eyes, she found them Among some rubble, among some beetles He gives her her skin He ...
There is one story and one story only That will prove worth your telling, Whether as learned bard or gifted ...
Smooth glass, clear, or in the prism's spectrum Cool of polished marble in Washington's monuments smooth of a baby's skin, ...
It sat carefully on the one-inch thick pine board Dials and coils and resistors combined to catch sound from the ...
The Baron has decided to mate the monster, to breed him perhaps, in the interests of pure science, his only ...
To-night I tread the unsubstantial way That looms before me, as the thundering night Falls on the ocean: I must ...
To-night I tread the unsubstantial way That looms before me, as the thundering night Falls on the ocean: I must ...
A hotel in whose ledgers departures are more prominent than arrivals. With wet Koh-i-noors the October rain strokes what's left ...
'Draw three cards, and I will tell your future . . . Draw three cards, and lay them down, Rest ...
Rain drenches the patio stones. All night was spent waiting for an earthquake, and instead water stains sand with its ...
I know you are reading this poem late, before leaving your office of the one intense yellow lamp-spot and the ...
(After Pushkin) Look at the bare wood hand-waxed floor and long White dressing-gown, the good child's writing-desk And passionate cold ...
On the then-below-zero day, it was on, near the patients' chair, the old heater kept by the analyst's couch, at ...
"I'd rather make $700 a week playing a maid than earn $7 a day being a maid". Hattie McDaniel. I'm ...
It is conceit that kills us and makes us cowards instead of gods. Under the great Command: Know thy self, ...
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