April (Nancy Byrd Turner Poems)
The April house was near a pond; It was made of reeds and of rushes, All helter-skelter and out of kelter, And ringed ...
The April house was near a pond; It was made of reeds and of rushes, All helter-skelter and out of kelter, And ringed ...
During the war, I was in China.Every night we blew the world to hell.The sky was purple and yellowlike his ...
she wore lightlong wide dressesthe wind carried herdown streets and through parkseasily, as if through a dreamwith blossoming lindensthe thin ...
Con Son's streams babbleAs music from a stringed instrument.Con Son embraces the mossy boulders exposed to the sun,Sitting on these ...
No silks have I, no furs nor feathers,But one old gown that knows all weathers;No veils nor parasols nor lace,But ...
We riders of the clouds' voices we sleeping palm-trees, brooms and black parasols we who have hidden all the secrets of the ...
In moss-prankt dells which the sunbeams flatter (And heaven it knoweth what that may mean;Meaning, however, is no great matter) ...
She's the jauntiest of creatures, she's the daintiest of misses,With her pretty patent leathers or her alligator ties,With her eyes ...
unfurling our Japanese parasolsout in the desertwe arrange our dolls' tea seton an upturned butter boxwe have invited the little ...
342It will be Summer-eventually.Ladies-with parasols-Sauntering Gentlemen-with Canes-And little Girls-with Dolls-Will tint the pallid landscape-As 'twere a bright Bouquet-Thro' drifted deep, ...
The eye can hardly pick them out From the cold shade they shelter in, Till wind distresses tail and main; ...
During the war, I was in China. Every night we blew the world to hell. The sky was purple and ...
I Jesús, Estrella, Esperanza, Mercy: Sails flashing to the wind like weapons, sharks following the moans the fever and the ...
It will be Summer -- eventually. Ladies -- with parasols -- Sauntering Gentlemen -- with Canes -- And little Girls ...
No monument stands over Babi Yar. A drop sheer as a crude gravestone. I am afraid. Today I am as ...
1 Adios, Carenage In idle August, while the sea soft, and leaves of brown islands stick to the rim of ...
There were still shards of an ancient pastoral in those shires of the island where the cattle drank their pools ...
THE MARE Alix breaks the world's trotting record one day. I see her heels flash down the dust of an ...
After all the rain, the sun Shines on hill and grassy mead; Fly into the garden, child, You are very ...
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