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, ...
There are who lord it o'er their fellow-men With most prevailing tinsel: who unpen Their baaing vanities, to browse away ...
St. Agnes' Eve--Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limp'd trembling through ...
They, whoever they are, say you should eat a good hot breakfast I don't think they had this in mind ...
Praise the good-tempered summer and the red cardinal that jumps like a hot coal off the track. Praise the heavy ...
Often beneath the wave, wide from this ledge The dice of drowned men's bones he saw bequeath An embassy. Their ...
In the cold, cold parlor my mother laid out Arthur beneath the chromographs: Edward, Prince of Wales, with Princess Alexandra, ...
I have enough treasures from the past to last me longer than I need, or want. You know as well ...
How strange to greet, this frosty morn, In graceful counterfeit of flower, These children of the meadows, born Of sunshine ...
It is full winter now: the trees are bare, Save where the cattle huddle from the cold Beneath the pine, ...
It is cold. The white moon is up among her scattered stars- like the bare thighs of the Police Sergeant's ...
This is the place that I love the best, A little brown house, like a ground-bird's nest, Hid among grasses, ...
I write my name as one, On sands by waves o'errun Or winter's frosted pane, Traces a record vain. Oblivion's ...
Where I waved at the sky And waited your love through a February sleep, I saw birds swinging in, watched ...
Late lies the wintry sun a-bed, A frosty, fiery sleepy-head; Blinks but an hour or two; and then, A blood-red ...
BLEST be thy song, sweet NIGHTINGALE, Lorn minstrel of the lonely vale ! Where oft I've heard thy dulcet strain ...
My hand, a little raised, might press a star- Where I may look, the frosted peaks are spun, So shaped ...
For the Marriage in Cana of Galilee Dark-eyed, O woman of my dreams, Ivory sandalled, There is none like thee ...
Ho, come out with the wind of spring, And step it blithely in woodlands waking; Friend am I of each ...
Not every man has gentians in his house in Soft September, at slow, Sad Michaelmas. Bavarian gentians, big and dark, ...
after Juan Ramon A child wakens in a cold apartment. The windows are frosted. Outside he hears words rising from ...
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