The Hammers (Amy Lowell Poem)
I Frindsbury, Kent, 1786 Bang! Bang! Tap! Tap-a-tap! Rap! All through the lead and silver Winter days, All through the ...
I Frindsbury, Kent, 1786 Bang! Bang! Tap! Tap-a-tap! Rap! All through the lead and silver Winter days, All through the ...
O I dreamt I shore in a shearing shed and it was a dream of joy For every one of ...
Third Avenue in sunlight. Nature's error. Already the bars are filled and John is there. Beneath a plentiful lady over ...
The mahogany table-top you smashed Had been the broad plank top Of my mother's heirloom sideboard- Mapped with the scars ...
I watch you walk up our front path, the entire right side of your body, stiff and unbending, your leg, ...
What would be said, if we were to close; who would know, who would care? What is our niche, our ...
Without walls, just the tent the place of the meeting for the people where God lived before the Temple before ...
The Beaver's Lesson They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care; They pursued it with forks and hope; ...
Dedication Inscribed to a dear Child: in memory of golden summer hours and whispers of a summer sea. Girt with ...
The heavy mahogany door with its wrought-iron screen Shuts. And the sound is rich, sympathetic, discreet. The sun still shines ...
I What shall I do with this absurdity - O heart, O troubled heart - this caricature, Decrepit age that ...
There were still shards of an ancient pastoral in those shires of the island where the cattle drank their pools ...
When my mam had to go Up north to look after gran, Margaret's mam said I could Stop with them; ...
In my dream, drilling into the marrow of my entire bone, my real dream, I'm walking up and down Beacon ...
EARLY May, after cold rain the sun baffling cold wind. Irish setter pup finds a corner near the cellar door, ...
I DRANK musty ale at the Illinois Athletic Club with the millionaire manufacturer of Green River butter one night And ...
Bare-handed, I hand the combs. The man in white smiles, bare-handed, Our cheesecloth gauntlets neat and sweet, The throats of ...
My most respected comrades of posterity! Rummaging among these days' petrified crap, exploring the twilight of our times, you, possibly, ...
From bristly foliage you fell complete, polished wood, gleaming mahogany, as perfect as a violin newly born of the treetops, ...
Such a morning it is when love leans through geranium windows and calls with a cockerel's tongue. When red-haired girls ...
Is it long as a noodle or fat as an egg? Is it lumpy like a potato or ringed like ...
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