The Quaker Graveyard in Nantucket (Robert Lowell Poem)
(For Warren Winslow, Dead At Sea) Let man have dominion over the fishes of the sea and the fowls of ...
(For Warren Winslow, Dead At Sea) Let man have dominion over the fishes of the sea and the fowls of ...
I. Fair Isabel, poor simple Isabel! Lorenzo, a young palmer in Love's eye! They could not in the self-same mansion ...
BOOK I Deep in the shady sadness of a vale Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn, Far from ...
A DRUID. SWEET smiles the May! The forest gay From frost and ice is freed; No snow is found, Glad ...
THOSE who in fables deal, bestow at ease Both names and titles, freely as they please. It costs them scarcely ...
If she had been the Mistletoe And I had been the Rose -- How gay upon your table My velvet ...
Velvet soft the night-star glowed Over the untrodden road, Through the giant glades of yew ...
Velvet soft the night-star glowed Over the untrodden road, Through the giant glades of yew ...
This is a day of happiness, sweet peace, And heavenly sunshine; upon which conven'd In full assembly fair, once more ...
How strange to greet, this frosty morn, In graceful counterfeit of flower, These children of the meadows, born Of sunshine ...
GIFT from the cold and silent Past! A relic to the present cast, Left on the ever-changing strand Of shifting ...
While about the shore of Mona those Neronian legionaries Burnt and broke the grove and altar of the Druid and ...
'There sinks the nebulous star we call the Sun, If that hypothesis of theirs be sound' Said Ida; 'let us ...
In the mustardseed sun, By full tilt river and switchback sea Where the cormorants scud, In his house on stilts ...
I used to think a pot of ink Held magic in its fluid, And I would ply a pen when ...
I have a tiny piney wood; my trees are only fifty, Yet give me shade and solitude For they are ...
THERE'S a cure for sorrow in the well at Ballylee Where the scarlet cressets hang over the trembling pool: And ...
The darkness crumbles away It is the same old druid Time as ever, Only a live thing leaps my hand, ...
I sit in the dusk. I am all alone. Enter a child and an ice-cream cone. A parent is easily ...
Dark hills against a hollow crocus sky Scarfed with its crimson pennons, and below The dome of sunset long, hushed ...
There are sounds of mirth in the night-air ringing, And lamps from every casement shown; While voices blithe within are ...
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