Hiawatha’s Fishing (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poems)
Forth upon the Gitche Gumee, On the shining Big-Sea-Water, With his fishing-line of cedar, Of the twisted bark of cedar, ...
Forth upon the Gitche Gumee, On the shining Big-Sea-Water, With his fishing-line of cedar, Of the twisted bark of cedar, ...
Once, on a glittering ice-field, ages and ages ago, Ung, a maker of pictures, fashioned an image of snow. Fashioned ...
I've paid for your sickest fancies; I've humoured your crackedest whim -- Dick, it's your daddy, dying; you've got to ...
Only one cell in the frozen hive of night is lit, or so it seems to us: this Vietnamese café, ...
For William and Emily Maxwell At this time of day One could hear the caulking irons sound Against the hulls ...
In the third-class seat sat the journeying boy, And the roof-lamp's oily flame Played down on his listless form and ...
In this blue light I can take you there, snow having made me a world of bone seen through to. ...
Homage Kenneth Koch If I were doing my Laundry I'd wash my dirty Iran I'd throw in my United States, ...
I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and sat down under the huge shade of a Southern ...
They lie in parallel rows, on ice, head to tail, each a foot of luminosity barred with black bands, which ...
I The cloud my bed is tinged with blood and foam. The vault yet blazes with the sun Writhing above ...
I The cloud my bed is tinged with blood and foam. The vault yet blazes with the sun Writhing above ...
A city clerk, but gently born and bred; His wife, an unknown artist's orphan child-- One babe was theirs, a ...
A prince I was, blue-eyed, and fair in face, Of temper amorous, as the first of May, With lengths of ...
In my dream, drilling into the marrow of my entire bone, my real dream, I'm walking up and down Beacon ...
He's the man from Eldorado, and he's just arrived in town, In moccasins and oily buckskin shirt. He's gaunt as ...
The sky is like an envelope, One of those blue official things; And, sealing it, to mock our hope, The ...
This is the tale that was told to me by the man with the crystal eye, As I smoked my ...
Fear, like a living fire that only death Might one day cool, had now in Avon's eyes Been witness for ...
Among the market greens, a bullet from the ocean depths, a swimming projectile, I saw you, dead. All around you ...
You pull over to the shoulder of the two-lane road and sit for a moment wondering where you were going ...
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