The Wind-Harp (James Russell Lowell Poems)
I treasure in secret some long, fine hair Of tenderest brown, but so inwardly goldenI half used to fancy the sunshine ...
I treasure in secret some long, fine hair Of tenderest brown, but so inwardly goldenI half used to fancy the sunshine ...
1.Looking into the eyes of Gerard de NervalYou notice the giant sea crabs rising.Which is what happensWhen you look into ...
TO THE SPIRIT OF KEATSGreat soul, thou sittest with me in my room,Uplifting me with thy vast, quiet eyes,On whose ...
Which are the clouds, and which the mountains? See,They mix and melt together! Yon blue hillLooks fleeting as the vapors which distillTheir ...
She stands like one with mazy cares distraught.Around her sudden angry storm-clouds rise,Dark, dark! and comes the look into her ...
All night in slumber deep the armies lay: But, while the eastern sky with first faint beam Yet dimly reddened; ...
Accurs?d to the Medes, as to himself, That fatal hour when,--mad with fiercest hate,-- His private wrong on one man ...
On the morning of May,Ere the children had entered my gateWith their wreaths and mechanical lay,A metal ding-dong of the ...
On the next morrow, early, rose the king; And sat upon his throne: at his right hand, The heroic queen: ...
TRADES and Professions--these are themes the Muse,Left to her freedom, would forbear to choose;But to our Borough they in truth ...
Nose to window, Still as a mouse, Watching grampa "Bank the house." Out of the barrow ...
I sat at a high window till sleep despaired of meAnd all the anger in this small roomShook me for ...
AT that lost hour disowned of day and night, The after-birth of midnight, when life's face Turns to the wall ...
Well and wisely spake the master Of the silver Tuscan talk,Love should laugh at all disaster If with wisdom he ...
I met a lady from the South who said (You won't believe she said it, but she said it): "None ...
Tweedledee said to Alice, "You like poetry-" "Ye-es, pretty well-some poetry," Alice said doubtfully. "What shall I repeat to her," ...
As the kindling glances, Queen-like and clear, Which the bright moon lances From her tranquil sphere At the sleepless waters ...
Poets may praise a wattle thatch Doubtfully waterproof; Let me uplift my lowly latch Beneath a rose-tiled roof. Let it ...
HOw long shall this lyke dying lyfe endure, And know no end of her owne mysery: but wast and weare ...
Through thick Arcadian woods a hunter went, Following the beasts upon a fresh spring day; But since his horn-tipped bow ...
As one put drunk into the Packet-boat, Tom May was hurry'd hence and did not know't. But was amaz'd on ...
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