The Spilling Of The Wine (Lola Ridge Poems)
The soldiers lie upon the snow,That no longer gyrates under the spinning lightsNight juggles in her fat black hands.They will ...
The soldiers lie upon the snow,That no longer gyrates under the spinning lightsNight juggles in her fat black hands.They will ...
SPRING house-cleaning in Arcadie, When every bough is bare;'If it bring Wendy back to me, 'I wish,' quoth Pan, ' 'twere here.'For ...
I know a very tiresome ManWho keeps on saying, 'Social Plan.'At every Dinner, every TalkWhere Men foregather, eat or walk,No ...
To the memory of John Peale Bishop, 1892-1944Attor porsi la mano un poco avante,e colsi un ramicel da un gran ...
WE have other tales for telling, we have other songs to sing, Who have looped the planet's waters in a ...
Brothers!(I address myself to that chosen few -- which includes you,My dear reader -- whoAre men of understanding, bright intellect ...
For this and that and various things It seems that men must get together,To purchase cups or diamond rings Or ...
The heather's on fire. McLeans from the byre, The hamlet, the city, the wide open plains, The ...
The piano and my writing-desk are covered with a pall And charwomen and chimney-sweeps foregather in the hall; But the ...
I WOULD I could weave in The colour, the wonder, The song I conceive in My heart while I ponder, ...
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