A Field of Ferns (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
Above the bluff, the scar, the clear-cut of the power lines, a forest of pine opens to the north Surrounded ...
Above the bluff, the scar, the clear-cut of the power lines, a forest of pine opens to the north Surrounded ...
A turn of the key The knob opens From the outside world To my home Daddy Ray! Daddy Ray! They ...
The page opens to snow on a field: boot-holed month, black hour the bottle in your coat half voda half ...
The Baron has decided to mate the monster, to breed him perhaps, in the interests of pure science, his only ...
A slight rain comes, bathed in dawn light. I hear it among treetop leaves before mist Arrives. Soon it sprinkles ...
Even the bravest that are slain Shall not dissemble their surprise On waking to find valor reign, Even as on ...
What boots it, thy virtue, What profit thy parts, While one thing thou lackest, The art of all arts! The ...
TWELVE o'clock. Along the reaches of the street Held in a lunar synthesis, Whispering lunar incantations Dissolve the floors of ...
To slip into your shadow under cover of night. To follow your footsteps, your shadow at the window. That shadow ...
"I've been having these awful dreams, each a little different, though the core's the same- we're walking in a field, ...
I love the hour that comes, with dusky hair And dewy feet, along the Alpine dells To lead the cattle ...
June 22, 1611 THE SHALLOP ON HUDSON BAY One sail in sight upon the lonely sea And only one, God ...
These are the Signs to Nature's Inns -- Her invitation broad To Whosoever famishing To taste her mystic Bread -- ...
As Watchers hang upon the East, As Beggars revel at a feast By savory Fancy spread -- As brooks in ...
There's been a Death, in the Opposite House, As lately as Today -- I know it, by the numb look ...
A narrow Fellow in the Grass Occasionally rides -- You may have met Him -- did you not His notice ...
In these darkened rooms, where I spend oppresive days, I pace to and fro to find the windows. -- When ...
Sent off to boarding school at twelve, with a pair of oxfords, a pair of patents, my sterling silver christening ...
A vagueness comes over everything, as though proving color and contour alike dispensable: the lighthouse extinct, the islands' spruce-tips drunk ...
past parentage or gender beyond sung vocables the slipped-between the so infinitesimal fault line a limitless interiority beyond the woven ...
It's what the kids nowadays call weed. And it drifts like clouds from his lips. He hopes no one comes ...
As he writes, without looking at the sea, he feels the tip of his pen begin to tremble. The tide ...
Comes the time when it's later and onto your table the headwaiter puts the bill, and very soon after rings ...
From a letter from STC to Wordsworth after writing The Nightingale: In stale blank verse a subject stale I send ...
I There was an ancient City, stricken down With a strange frenzy, and for many a day They paced from ...
I watch the man bend over his patch, a fat gunny sack at his feet. He combs the earth with ...
Doors were left open in heaven again: drafts wheeze, clouds wrap their ripped pages around roofs and trees. Like wet ...
LEANDER. No more of Memphis and her mighty kings, Or Alexandria, where the Ptolomies. Taught golden commerce to unfurl her ...
Languid, and sad, and slow, from day to day I journey on, yet pensive turn to view (Where the rich ...
Languid, and sad, and slow, from day to day I journey on, yet pensive turn to view (Where the rich ...
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