The Cremona Violin (Amy Lowell Poem)
Part First Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut the door. A storm was rising, heavy gusts of wind Swirled through the trees, ...
Part First Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut the door. A storm was rising, heavy gusts of wind Swirled through the trees, ...
Among the blight-killed eucalypts, among trees and bushes rusted by Christmas frosts, the yards and hillsides exhausted by five years ...
Freezing dusk is closing Like a slow trap of steel On trees and roads and hills and all That can ...
The French had nothing on us. okay, other than skill, tradition, and hygiene We all were vintners for a moment ...
Memory: I can take my head and strike it on a wall on Cumberland Island Where the night tide came ...
There's an infinity of wisdom in your smile that would deny the winsome wit that lies at back of it; ...
The grey gulls drift across the bay Softly and still as flakes of snow Against the thinning fog. All day ...
Eliza, what fools are the Mussulman sect, Who to woman deny the soul's future existence! Could they see thee, Eliza, ...
Like prim Professor of a College I primed my shelves with books of knowledge; And now I stand before them ...
IA STORM of white petals, Buds throwing open baby fists Into hands of broad flowers. IIRed roses running upward, Clambering ...
ON the street Slung on his shoulder is a handle half way across, Tied in a big knot on the ...
To the Williamson Brothers HIGH noon. White sun flashes on the Michigan Avenue asphalt. Drum of hoofs and whirr of ...
Slowly I smoke and hug my knee, The while a witless masquerade Of things that only children see Floats in ...
[As a Tribute of Esteem and Admiration this Poem is inscribed to ROBERT MERRY, Esq. A. M. Member of the ...
(ALCAICS) Confused, he found her lavishing feminine Gold upon clay, and found her inscrutable; And yet she smiled. Why, then, ...
1. The dark socket of the year the pit, the cave where the sun lies down and threatens never to ...
Shut, shut the door, good John! fatigu'd, I said, Tie up the knocker, say I'm sick, I'm dead. The dog-star ...
Toothed eyes fly Over still waters Around us purple lips Flutter from branches Screams hit the blue And fall onto ...
For Leonard Baskin To his house the bodiless Come to barter endlessly Vision, wisdom, for bodies Palpable as his, and ...
"Seldom we find," says Solomon Don Dunce, "Half an idea in the profoundest sonnet. Through all the flimsy things we ...
To-day the woods are trembling through and through With shimmering forms, that flash before my view, Then melt in green ...
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