Aftermath (Amy Lowell Poem)
I learnt to write to you in happier days, And every letter was a piece I chipped From off my ...
I learnt to write to you in happier days, And every letter was a piece I chipped From off my ...
What is poetry? Is it a mosaic Of coloured stones which curiously are wrought Into a pattern? Rather glass that's ...
Civilized, crying: how to be human again; this will tell you how. Turn outward, love things, not men, turn right ...
There, in the corner, staring at his drink. The cap juts like a gantry's crossbeam, Cowling plated forehead and sledgehead ...
Every picture tells a story yet words can draw, can paint can make a picture a rich tapestry, the splash ...
the books of the law foundations of the people the mosaic code October 27, 2009 (Raymond A. Foss)
The priest never used blueprints, but worked all the many designs out of his head. Father Wilerus, transplanted Alsatian, built ...
The only Ghost I ever saw Was dressed in Mechlin -- so -- He wore no sandal on his foot ...
When I close my eyes I cannot reconstruct your face but the three-dimensional solidity or you bursts through the tissues ...
ADVERTISEMENT "The grand army of the Turks, (in 1715), under the Prime Vizier, to open to themselves a way into ...
BOOK FIRST. I. ALL valor died not on the plains of Troy. Awake, my Muse, awake! be thine the joy ...
Now Night came down, and rose full soon That patroness of rogues, the Moon; Beneath whose kind protecting ray, Wolves, ...
Alone in Sutton with Fynbos my orange cat A long weekend of wind and rain drowning The tumultuous flurry of ...
I built my soul a lordly pleasure-house, Wherein at ease for aye to dwell. I said, "O Soul, make merry ...
'There sinks the nebulous star we call the Sun, If that hypothesis of theirs be sound' Said Ida; 'let us ...
For a Man is to be looked upon in that which he excells as on a prospect. For there be ...
My spirit only lived to look on Beauty's face, As only when they clasp the arms seem served aright; As ...
Emily, A ship is floating in the harbour now, A wind is hovering o'er the mountain's brow; There is a ...
Something spreading underground won't speak to us under skin won't declare itself not all life-forms want dialogue with the machine-gods ...
I think that I shall never know Why I am thus, and I am so. Around me, other girls inspire ...
First was the world as one great cymbal made, Where jarring winds to infant Nature played. All music was a ...
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