The Poet And His Book (Edna St. Vincent Millay Poems)
Down, you mongrel, Death!Back into your kennel!I have stolen breathIn a stalk of fennel!You shall scratch and you shall whineMany ...
Down, you mongrel, Death!Back into your kennel!I have stolen breathIn a stalk of fennel!You shall scratch and you shall whineMany ...
I The eyes, that, having seen the saintly light Blossom white-petalled out of a white sea In a miraculous rose ...
Give me a spot in the sun, With a lizard basking by me, In Sicily, over the ...
It was the old Vindictive out of Dover put to sea,And she sailed to the Lowlands low,With cruisers and with ...
The angel host that sped last night, Bearing the wondrous news afar, Came in their ...
We roam about the countrysideAnd view the farmlands rolling wide - A picture surely this of peace, of planty.We mark ...
WHEN the corn is green and the poppies red And the fields are crimson with love-lies-bleeding, When the ...
O leave the labouring roadways of the town,The shifting faces and the changeful hueOf markets, and broad echoing streets that ...
God dreamed a man; Then, having firmly shut Life like a precious metal in his fist Withdrew, ...
When the days of creationWere all but done,And earth lay drowsingUnder the sun —Forest and desertAching and vast,Rivers unforded,Ranges unpassed ...
Who shall invoke her, who shall be her priest,With single rites the common debt to pay?On some green headland fronting ...
When, foot to wheel and back to wind, The helmsman dare not look behind, But hears beyond his compass-light, The ...
My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree Toward heaven still, And there's a barrel that I didn't fill Beside ...
The Sun kept setting -- setting -- still No Hue of Afternoon -- Upon the Village I perceived From House ...
Broad sun-stoned beaches. White heat. A green river. A bridge, scorched yellow palms from the summer-sleeping house drowsing through August. ...
WHY reclining, interrogating? Why myself and all drowsing? What deepening twilight! scum floating atop of the waters! Who are they, ...
Who shall invoke her, who shall be her priest, With single rites the common debt to pay? On some green ...
Comrades, up! Let us row down stream in this first rare dawnlight, While far in the clear north-west the late ...
It was not meant for human eyes, That combat on the shabby patch Of clods and trampled turf that lies ...
Down, you mongrel, Death! Back into your kennel! I have stolen breath In a stalk of fennel! You shall scratch ...
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