Sixty Years Ago (Alice Guerin Crist Poems)
IThe double-blossomed peach-trees with rosy bloom were gayWhen grandpa rode beneath them upon his courting way,From the white gate to ...
IThe double-blossomed peach-trees with rosy bloom were gayWhen grandpa rode beneath them upon his courting way,From the white gate to ...
Never since the race was started,Had a boy in any clime,Cause to be so thankful-hearted,As the boys of present time.Not ...
Are they blue, gray or green? Mysterious eyes (as if in fact you were looking through a mist) in alternation ...
Let de boat swing down de ribber;Ah! swing, ah! swing away! Can't afford to leave mah only,So heah I'm gwine ...
Not all flowers have souls,But roses, for they are memories of lovers,And lilies, their prayers,Azaleas; who give themselves to the ...
Oh Shade obscene from out the jungled past,Fear o' the Dark made incarnate again,And manifest in torture, lust, and pain,Thou ...
I loved illustrious cities and the crowds That eddy through their incandescent nights. I loved remote horizons with far clouds ...
FRAIL beauty, green, gold and incandescent whiteness, narcissi, daffodils, you have brought me Spring and longing, wistfulness, in your irradiance. ...
All is quiet in the house, girls asleep, slowing down the only sound my fingers clicking these words the purr ...
I Midwinter spring is its own season Sempiternal though sodden towards sundown, Suspended in time, between pole and tropic. When ...
Poetry, I found you where at last they chained and bound you; with devices all around you to torture and ...
Once I dipt into the future far as human eye could see, And I saw the Chief Forecaster, dead as ...
I can make out the rigging of a schooner a mile off; I can count the new cones on the ...
In the burned house I am eating breakfast. You understand: there is no house, there is no breakfast, yet here ...
They take us by surprise, these tall perennials that jut like hollyhocks above the canopy of all the rest of ...
whisper of yellow globes gleaming on lamp-posts that sway like bootleg licker drinkers in the fog and let your breath ...
I loved illustrious cities and the crowds That eddy through their incandescent nights. I loved remote horizons with far clouds ...
I know a village in a far-off land Where from a sunny, mountain-girdled plain With tinted walls a space on ...
The Sunday lamb cracks in its fat. The fat Sacrifices its opacity. . . . A window, holy gold. The ...
On the stiff twig up there Hunches a wet black rook Arranging and rearranging its feathers in the rain. I ...
This institution, perhaps one should say enterprise out of respect for which one says one need not change one's mind ...
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