More Sonnets At Christmas I (Allen Tate Poems)
To Denis DevlinAgain the native hour lets down the locksUncombed and black, but gray the bobbing beard;Ten years ago His ...
To Denis DevlinAgain the native hour lets down the locksUncombed and black, but gray the bobbing beard;Ten years ago His ...
Nothing's certain. Crossing, on this longest day, the low-tide-uncovered isthmus, scrambling up the scree-slope of what at high tide will ...
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