The Precinct. Rochester (Amy Lowell Poem)
The tall yellow hollyhocks stand, Still and straight, With their round blossoms spread open, In the quiet sunshine. And still ...
The tall yellow hollyhocks stand, Still and straight, With their round blossoms spread open, In the quiet sunshine. And still ...
Fire lighted; on the table a meal for sleepy men; A lantern in the stable; a jingle now and then; ...
By homestead, hut, and shearing-shed, By railroad, coach, and track -- By lonely graves of our brave dead, Up-Country and ...
Jack Denver died on Talbragar when Christmas Eve began, And there was sorrow round the place, for Denver was a ...
O I dreamt I shore in a shearing shed and it was a dream of joy For every one of ...
It chanced upon the very day we'd got the shearing done, A buggy brought a stranger to the West-o'-Sunday Run; ...
The old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought, The cheque was spent that the ...
Beside the ungathered rice he lay, His sickle in his hand; His breast was bare, his matted hair Was buried ...
Usually at the helipad I see them stumble-dance across the hot asphalt with crokersacks over their heads, moving toward the ...
When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East 'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast, ...
When the Waters were dried an' the Earth did appear, ("It's all one," says the Sapper), The Lord He created ...
Unto one who lies at rest 'Neath the sunset, in the West, Clover-blossoms on her breast. Lover of each gracious ...
TO skies that were brighter Turned he his prows; To gods that were lighter Made he his vows. The snow-land's ...
Where are you, my beloved? Are you in that little Paradise, watering the flowers who look upon you As infants ...
Millions of babies watching the skies Bellies swollen, with big round eyes On Jessore Road--long bamboo huts Noplace to shit ...
Though skilled in Latin and in Greek, And earning fifty cents a week, Such knowledge, and the income, too, Should ...
It pleased the Lord of Angels (praise His name!) To hear, one day, report from those who came With pitying ...
PART I On Susquehanna's side, fair Wyoming! Although the wild-flower on thy ruin'd wall, And roofless homes, a sad remembrance ...
Encase your legs in nylons, Bestride your hills with pylons O age without a soul; Away with gentle willows And ...
I had a dream, which was not all a dream. The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars Did wander ...
I. How well I know what I mean to do When the long dark autumn-evenings come: And where, my soul, ...
Glion?--Ah, twenty years, it cuts All meaning from a name! White houses prank where once were huts. Glion, but not ...
Through Alpine meadows soft-suffused With rain, where thick the crocus blows, Past the dark forges long disused, The mule-track from ...
With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise. Does ...
Bury thy sorrows, and they shall rise As souls to the immortal skies, And there look down like mothers' eyes. ...
The clouds and the stars didn't wage this war the brooks gave no information if the mountain spewed stones of ...
So you're back from up the country, Mister Lawson, where you went, And you're cursing all the business in a ...
When the dark comes down, oh, the wind is on the sea With lisping laugh and whimper to the red ...
"I've been where it hurts." the Kid He becomes Sierra Kid I passed Slimgullion, Morgan Mine, Camp Seco, and the ...
WHERE now the huts are empty, Where never a camp-fire glows, In an abandoned cañon, A Gambler's Ghost arose. He ...
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