Francis II, King of Naples (Amy Lowell Poem)
Written after reading Trevelyan's "Garibaldi and the making of Italy" Poor foolish monarch, vacillating, vain, Decaying victim of a race ...
Written after reading Trevelyan's "Garibaldi and the making of Italy" Poor foolish monarch, vacillating, vain, Decaying victim of a race ...
Fire lighted; on the table a meal for sleepy men; A lantern in the stable; a jingle now and then; ...
I When I considered it too closely, when I wore it like an element and smelt it like water, Life ...
Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store, Though foolishly he lost the same, Decaying more and more, Till he ...
NOT in the world of light alone, Where God has built his blazing throne, Nor yet alone in earth below, ...
"BRING me my broken harp," he said; "We both are wrecks,-- but as ye will,-- Though all its ringing tones ...
Get up, get up for shame! the blooming morn Upon her wings presents the god unshorn. See how Aurora throws ...
Mulch, beside the house By the foundation, under the wet, Decaying broad oak leaves Renewing the soil, as they do ...
Rising from the ashes the decaying stump rich with moss a tree to supplant its forebear's life run out in ...
She died in the upstairs bedroom By the light of the ev'ning star That shone through the plate glass window ...
Some people go their whole lives without ever writing a single poem. Extraordinary people who don't hesitate to cut somebody's ...
I I, in my intricate image, stride on two levels, Forged in man's minerals, the brassy orator Laying my ghost ...
heatbeats of fallen flowers breaths of leaves decaying they aren't dead--just transforming (Sukasah Syahdan)
"Let's make him a sailor," said Father, "And he will adventure the sea." "A soldier," said Mother, "is rather What ...
I O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, ...
Earth, Ocean, Air, belovèd brotherhood! If our great Mother has imbued my soul With aught of natural piety to feel ...
Beneath an old wall, that went round an old Castle, For many a year, with brown ivy o'erspread; A neat ...
By the side of the brook, where the willow is waving Why sits the wan Youth, in his wedding-suit gay! ...
To Jena Woodhouse This way of minutes miserably mixed With their own blinks misunderstood By birds and trees, this eye-born ...
In your bosom we wake up with fear, In your sky there's only unending tears, You always roar, but within, ...
--The Carpathian Frontier, October, 1968 --for my brother Once, in a foreign country, I was suddenly ill. I was driving ...
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