The Prophecy of Samuel Sewall (John Greenleaf Whittier Poems)
Up and down the village streetsStrange are the forms my fancy meets,For the thoughts and things of to-day are hid,And ...
Up and down the village streetsStrange are the forms my fancy meets,For the thoughts and things of to-day are hid,And ...
WHANNE Englonde, smeethynge from her lethal wound;From her galled necke dyd twytte the chayne awaie,Kennynge her legeful sonnes falle all ...
Out beyond Aldgate is a road,And a broad,Clean, noble thing it runs,For the sun'sAnd wind's and man's delight,And the high ...
In the last civil war,The white folks, they began it,But before it could close,The Negro had to be in it.At ...
There is a tear for all that die, A mourner o'er the humblest grave;But nations swell the funeral cry, And Triumph weeps ...
And how sweet a story it isWhen you hear Charley Parker tell it,Either on records or at sessions,Or at offical bits ...
Our Skeeta was married, our Skeeta! the tomboy and pet of the ...
Tell me, Muse, what colour floateth round the River's ancient head: Is it white and black, or white ...
``Come and listen to my ditty.'' On that fam'd and ancient station Where to Thames the Medway runs, When in ...
Dedication Poem on the reception of the annex tothe home for aged colored people, from the bequest ofMr. Edward T. ...
Anna who was mad,I have a knife in my armpit.When I stand on tiptoe I tap out messages.Am I some ...
She does not mind a good cigar (The kind, that is, I smoke);She thinks all men quite stupid are, (But ...
The deer's a mighty useful beastFrom Petersburg to TennysonFor while he lives he lopes aroundAnd when he's dead he's venison.Ellis ...
Eclogue the First. Whanne Englonde, smeethynge from her lethal wounde, From her galled necke dyd twytte the chayne awaie, Kennynge ...
Cass was the youngest and most beautiful of 5 sisters. Cass was the most beautiful girl in town. 1/2 Indian ...
Herbs, garlic, cheese, please let me in! Souffles, salad, Parker House rolls, please let me in! Cook Helen, why are ...
Anna who was mad, I have a knife in my armpit. When I stand on tiptoe I tap out messages. ...
If Ezra Pound were alive today (and he is) he'd be teaching at a small college in the Pacific Northwest ...
Some days I catch a rhythm, almost a song in my own breath. I'm alone here in Brooklyn Heights, late ...
Hungry and cold, I stood in a doorway on Delancey Street in 1946 as the rain came down. The worst ...
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