1777 (Amy Lowell Poem)
I The Trumpet-Vine Arbour The throats of the little red trumpet-flowers are wide open, And the clangour of brass beats ...
I The Trumpet-Vine Arbour The throats of the little red trumpet-flowers are wide open, And the clangour of brass beats ...
Should you ask me, whence these stories? Whence these legends and traditions, With the odors of the forest With the ...
NOW, rallying once if ne'er again, With flag at half-mast flown, A people in dire need and strain Mans Tyra's ...
The harbingers are come. See, see their mark; White is their colour, and behold my head. But must they have ...
YES, write, if you want to, there's nothing like trying; Who knows what a treasure your casket may hold? I'll ...
Shall I move the flowers again? Shall I put them further to the left into the light? Win that fix ...
The youngest poet down the shelves was fumbling In a dim library, just behind the chair From which the ancient ...
Words coming quickly titles and phrases, bits of the body flying through the air falling to the page in line ...
Writing is so much about seeing the words, the constellations, points of light against the black sky, the mind's eye ...
There are two phrases, you must know, So potent (yet so small) That wheresoe'er a man may go He needs ...
The page opens to snow on a field: boot-holed month, black hour the bottle in your coat half voda half ...
SOLICITED I've been to give a tale, In which (though true, decorum must prevail), The subject from a picture shall ...
This house which is lived in resounds with the chorus of voices bound in the press of its generous, unconcealed ...
The symbols that we use are T shirts of the dead thoughts of corpses without heads, a rictus without sound ...
I like the old house tolerably well, Where I must dwell Like a familiar gnome; And yet I never shall ...
Can we not force from widow'd poetry, Now thou art dead (great Donne) one elegy To crown thy hearse? Why ...
1/ Genius is not a generous thing In return it charges more interest than any amount of royalties can cover ...
"How shall I be a poet? How shall I write in rhyme? You told me once the very wish Partook ...
This is not bad -- ambling along 44th Street with Sonny Rollins for company, his music flowing through the soft ...
Let me introduce to you my poetry: it's an island flying from book to book searching for the page where ...
Tobacco smoke drifts up to the dim ceiling From half a dozen pipes and cigarettes, Curling in endless shapes, in ...
Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story; The days of our youth are the days of ...
Of what she said to me that night-no matter. The strange thing came next day. My brain was full of ...
Fanfare of northwest wind, a bluejay wind announces autumn, and the equinox rolls back blue bays to a far afternoon. ...
In the willows along the river at Pleasure Bay A catbird singing, never the same phrase twice. Here under the ...
I I have loved England, dearly and deeply, Since that first morning, shining and pure, The white cliffs of Dover ...
You have read War and Peace. Now here is Sister Carrie, not up to Tolstoy; still it will second the ...
Human reason is beautiful and invincible. No bars, no barbed wire, no pulping of books, No sentence of banishment can ...
1 We, whose lungs fill with the sweetness of day. Who in May admire trees flowering Are better than those ...
--The Carpathian Frontier, October, 1968 --for my brother Once, in a foreign country, I was suddenly ill. I was driving ...
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