The Book of Hours of Sister Clotilde (Amy Lowell Poem)
The Bell in the convent tower swung. High overhead the great sun hung, A navel for the curving sky. The ...
The Bell in the convent tower swung. High overhead the great sun hung, A navel for the curving sky. The ...
I How the slates of the roof sparkle in the sun, over there, over there, beyond the high wall! How ...
1 A yellow band of light upon the street Pours from an open door, and makes a wide Pathway of ...
Cross-hatchings of rain against grey walls, Slant lines of black rain In front of the up and down, wet stone ...
Paul Jannes was working very late, For this watch must be done by eight To-morrow or the Cardinal Would certainly ...
1917 They shall not return to us, the resolute, the young, The eager and whole-hearted whom we gave: But the ...
Your ears will never hear sounds that to me are ordinary as air. From the hour that you were born ...
I sing of the decline of Henry Clay Who loved a white girl of uncommon size. Although a small man ...
THE sun had wheeled from Grey's to Dammer's Crest, And still I mused on that Thing imminent: At length I ...
I wayed by star and planet shine Towards the dear one's home At Kingsbere, there to make her mine When ...
WE stood by a pond that winter day, And the sun was white, as though chidden of God, And a ...
The truth of consequences a sobering reflection thinking about words the double edged sword an Achilles' heel of our nation ...
Crisp hard brown sturdy oak leaves glistened in the small crisp pools after this morning's rain, late fall puddles harvest ...
I Time present and time past Are both perhaps present in time future, And time future contained in time past. ...
In a slow drawn focus the concrete blocks that prop up my view of the sky morph soft and easy ...
In Virgynë the sweltrie sun gan sheene, And hotte upon the mees did caste his raie; The apple rodded from ...
Henry, edged, decidedly, made up stories lighting the past of Henry, of his glorious present, and his hoaries, all the ...
I TRUTH is within ourselves; it takes no rise From outward things, whate'er you may believe. There is an inmost ...
This celestial seascape, with white herons got up as angels, flying high as they want and as far as they ...
Over the darkened city, the city of towers, The city of a thousand gates, Over the gleaming terraced roofs, the ...
1 You, once a belle in Shreveport, with henna-colored hair, skin like a peachbud, still have your dresses copied from ...
Tomatoes rosy as perfect baby's buttocks, eggplants glossy as waxed fenders, purple neon flawless glistening peppers, pole beans fecund and ...
The stars are soft as flowers, and as near; The hills are webs of shadow, slowly spun; No separate leaf ...
And if, my friend, you'd have it end, There's naught to hear or tell. But need you try to black ...
Uphill in Melbourne on a beautiful day a woman is walking ahead of her hair. Like teak oiled soft to ...
Heark how the Mower Damon Sung, With love of Juliana stung! While ev'ry thing did seem to paint The Scene ...
New Year's Day 1:16 AM and my body is weary beyond time to withdraw and rest ample room allowed me ...
Another armored animal--scale lapping scale with spruce-cone regularity until they form the uninterrupted central tail-row! This near artichoke with head ...
For authorities whose hopes are shaped by mercenaries? Writers entrapped by teatime fame and by commuters' comforts? Not for these ...
The last of day gathers in the yellow parlor and drifts like fine dust across the face of the gilt-framed ...
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