The Coal Picker (Amy Lowell Poem)
He perches in the slime, inert, Bedaubed with iridescent dirt. The oil upon the puddles dries To colours like a ...
He perches in the slime, inert, Bedaubed with iridescent dirt. The oil upon the puddles dries To colours like a ...
Within the gold square of the proscenium arch, A curtain of orange velvet hangs in stiff folds, Its tassels jarring ...
1 A yellow band of light upon the street Pours from an open door, and makes a wide Pathway of ...
Slowly, without force, the rain drops into the city. It stops a moment on the carved head of Saint John, ...
There once was a man whom the gods didn't love, And a disagreeable man was he. He loathed his neighbours, ...
Part First Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut the door. A storm was rising, heavy gusts of wind Swirled through the trees, ...
Paul Jannes was working very late, For this watch must be done by eight To-morrow or the Cardinal Would certainly ...
If the water were clear enough, if the water were still, but the water is not clear, the water is ...
For William and Emily Maxwell At this time of day One could hear the caulking irons sound Against the hulls ...
How simple the pleasures of those childhood days, Simple but filled with exquisite satisfactions. The iridescent labyrinth of the spider, ...
It has a hole in it. Not only where I concentrate. The river still ribboning, twisting up, into its re- ...
There it was, once again melting my heart, a puddle of goo, no longer thinking of the day ahead Shy, ...
We were blessed, by a singular sight after our time on the beach, at the picnic a slice of color, ...
An ancient shell on their shelf a memento, a reminder of the sea of the coast glistening under the film ...
They lie in parallel rows, on ice, head to tail, each a foot of luminosity barred with black bands, which ...
I saw a brilliant angelfish whose tail and fins shimmered yellow until it turned and silver spread like an undercoat ...
(France -- Ancient Regime.) I. Go away! Go away; I will not confess to you! His black biretta clings like ...
Although it is a cold evening, down by one of the fishhouses an old man sits netting, his net, in ...
OH, if my spirit may foretell Or earlier impart, It is because I always dwell With morning in my heart. ...
I I dream of journeys repeatedly: Of flying like a bat deep into a narrowing tunnel Of driving alone, without ...
Other vessels hold wine, other vessels hold oil inside the hollowed-out vault circumscribed by their clay. I, as smaller measure, ...
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