Pickthorn Manor (Amy Lowell Poem)
I How fresh the Dartle's little waves that day! A steely silver, underlined with blue, And flashing where the round ...
I How fresh the Dartle's little waves that day! A steely silver, underlined with blue, And flashing where the round ...
Streaks of green and yellow iridescence, Silver shiftings, Rings veering out of rings, Silver -- gold -- Grey-green opaqueness sliding ...
Forth upon the Gitche Gumee, On the shining Big-Sea-Water, With his fishing-line of cedar, Of the twisted bark of cedar, ...
When three, he fished these lakes, Curled sleeping on a lip of rock, Crib blankets tucked from ants and fishbone ...
Memory: I can take my head and strike it on a wall on Cumberland Island Where the night tide came ...
Whangaehu waters, hot-spilled from the cauldron of Crater Lake, swirling mud-green from the cup between Tahurangi and Pyramid Peak, sulphurous, ...
I saw a brilliant angelfish whose tail and fins shimmered yellow until it turned and silver spread like an undercoat ...
There is fog upon the river, there is mirk upon the town; You can hear the groping ferries as they ...
1 Sometime now past in the Autumnal Tide, 2 When Ph{oe}bus wanted but one hour to bed, 3 The trees ...
WITNESS FOR TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA PEACE In San Francisco around Easter time last year, they had a trout fishing ...
As a girl, she hated the grain of anything on her fins. Now she is part fire ant, part centipede. ...
Florida An Airedale rolling through green frost, cabbage palms pointing their accusing leaves at whom, petulant waves breaking at my ...
Adieu to Belashanny! where I was bred and born; Go where I may, I'll think of you, as sure as ...
The pool glitters, the fishes leap in the sun With joyous fins, and dive in the pool again; I see ...
The bows glided down, and the coast Blackened with birds took a last look At his thrashing hair and whale-blue ...
Because the shad are swimming in our waters now, breaching the skin of the river with their tarnished silvery fins, ...
Among the market greens, a bullet from the ocean depths, a swimming projectile, I saw you, dead. All around you ...
The air heaving like a wounded fish, breathing through its purplish sandy gills, letting in the salty gale, fluttering its ...
Descend from Heaven, Urania, by that name If rightly thou art called, whose voice divine Following, above the Olympian hill ...
I swim near summer shadows glide over dappled shoals keeping to the fluid shallows reminiscent of the womb where I ...
If I were Lord of Tartary, Myself, and me alone, My bed should be of ivory, Of beaten gold my ...
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