The Last Quarter of the Moon (Amy Lowell Poem)
How long shall I tarnish the mirror of life, A spatter of rust on its polished steel! The seasons reel ...
How long shall I tarnish the mirror of life, A spatter of rust on its polished steel! The seasons reel ...
We live our lives of human passions, cruelties, dreams, concepts, crimes and the exercise of virtue in and beside a ...
He loved her and she loved him His kisses sucked out her whole past and future or tried to He ...
(a) they seek to celebrate the word not to bring their knives out on a poem dissecting it to find ...
Now that they've got it settled whose I be, I'm going to tell them something they won't like: They've got ...
Doors were left open in heaven again: drafts wheeze, clouds wrap their ripped pages around roofs and trees. Like wet ...
You see that porcelain ranged there in the window- Platters and soup-plates done with pale pink rosebuds, And tiny violets, ...
Troll sat alone on his seat of stone, And munched and mumbled a bare old bone; For many a year ...
O purblind race of miserable men, How many among us at this very hour Do forge a life-long trouble for ...
Pale, at its ghastly noon, Pauses above the death-still wood--the moon; The night-sprite, sighing, through the dim air stirs; The ...
We talked of yesteryears, of trails and treasure, Of men who played the game and lost or won; Of mad ...
We're taking Marie Toro to her home in Père-La-Chaise; We're taking Marie Toro to her last resting-place. Behold! her hearse ...
I strolled up old Bonanza, where I staked in ninety-eight, A-purpose to revisit the old claim. I kept thinking mighty ...
Soldiers are citizens of death's gray land, Drawing no dividend from time's to-morrows. In the great hour of destiny they ...
'Fall in, that awkward squad, and strike no more Attractive attitudes! Dress by the right! The luminous rich colours that ...
Soldiers are citizens of death's gray land, Drawing no dividend from time's to-morrows. In the great hour of destiny they ...
Between me and the sunset, like a dome Against the glory of a world on fire, Now burned a sudden ...
In his malodorous brain what slugs and mire, Lanthorned in his oblique eyes, guttering burned! His body lodged a rat ...
In the rectory garden on his evening walk Paced brisk Father Shawn. A cold day, a sodden one it was ...
I drank at every vine. The last was like the first. I came upon no wine So wonderful as thirst. ...
I. THE LION The Lion is a kingly beast. He likes a Hindu for a feast. And if no Hindu ...
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