The Hammers (Amy Lowell Poem)
I Frindsbury, Kent, 1786 Bang! Bang! Tap! Tap-a-tap! Rap! All through the lead and silver Winter days, All through the ...
I Frindsbury, Kent, 1786 Bang! Bang! Tap! Tap-a-tap! Rap! All through the lead and silver Winter days, All through the ...
Bath The day is fresh-washed and fair, and there is a smell of tulips and narcissus in the air. The ...
"Wondrous life!" cried Marvell at Appleton House. Renan admired Jesus Christ "wholeheartedly." But here dried ferns keep falling to the ...
A bird that I don't know, Hunched on his light-pole like a scarecrow, Looks sideways out into the wheat The ...
THROUGH my north window, in the wintry weather,-- My airy oriel on the river shore,-- I watch the sea-fowl as ...
When the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay, And the May month flaps its glad green leaves ...
I have put on my great coat it is cold. It is an outer garment. Coarse, woolen. Of unknown origin. ...
Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain, Where health and plenty cheered the labouring swain, Where smiling spring its earliest ...
My maternal grandparents were snowbirds; the scent of their plumage an evergreen air freshener dangling off the rearview mirror of ...
O SING unto my roundelay, O drop the briny tear with me; Dance no more at holyday, Like a running ...
The Frost performs its secret ministry, Unhelped by any wind. The owlet's cry Came loud, -and hark, again! loud as ...
The landscape sleeps in mist from morn till noon; And, if the sun looks through, 'tis with a face Beamless ...
A Fragment of a Turkish Tale The tale which these disjointed fragments present, is founded upon circumstances now less common ...
I. The morn when first it thunders in March, The eel in the pond gives a leap, they say: As ...
It is full winter now: the trees are bare, Save where the cattle huddle from the cold Beneath the pine, ...
Rivers, tow paths, caravan parks From Kirkstall to Keighley The track's ribbon flaps Like Margaret's whirling and twirling At ten ...
At break of day the College Portress came: She brought us Academic silks, in hue The lilac, with a silken ...
for Ruth Fainlight I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root; It is what ...
The air heaving like a wounded fish, breathing through its purplish sandy gills, letting in the salty gale, fluttering its ...
I have studied the Science of departures, in night's sorrows, when a woman's hair falls down. The oxen chew, there's ...
In memory of Dimitri Mitropoulos The harpist believes there is music in the skeletons of fish The French horn player ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories