The Road to Avignon (Amy Lowell Poem)
A Minstrel stands on a marble stair, Blown by the bright wind, debonair; Below lies the sea, a sapphire floor, ...
A Minstrel stands on a marble stair, Blown by the bright wind, debonair; Below lies the sea, a sapphire floor, ...
Yes, the Year is growing old, And his eye is pale and bleared! Death, with frosty hand and cold, Plucks ...
O Sovereign power of love! O grief! O balm! All records, saving thine, come cool, and calm, And shadowy, through ...
From this bleeding hand of mine, Take this sprig of Eglantine: Which, though sweet unto your smell, Yet the fretful ...
SONG OF THE IMPRISONED COUNT. COUNT. I KNOW a flower of beauty rare, Ah, how I hold it dear! To ...
OVER the meadows, and down the stream, And through the garden-walks straying, He plucks the flowers that fairest seem; His ...
Sitting alone, Love bids me go and write; Reason plucks back, commanding me to stay, Boasting that she doth still ...
This World is not Conclusion. A Species stands beyond -- Invisible, as Music -- But positive, as Sound -- It ...
We are the vagabonds of time, And rove the yellow autumn days, When all the roads are gray with rime ...
I That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers, And the blue eye Dear and dewy, And that infantine fresh air of hers! ...
SHE wanders in the April woods, That glisten with the fallen shower; She leans her face against the buds, She ...
In the beginning of time, there rose from the churning of God's dream two women. One is the dancer at ...
Says I to my Missis: "Ba goom, lass! you've something I see, on your mind." Says she: "You are right, ...
EXULT MY MUSE! exult to see Each envious, waspish, jealous thing, Around its harmless venom fling, And dart its powerless ...
[As a Tribute of Esteem and Admiration this Poem is inscribed to ROBERT MERRY, Esq. A. M. Member of the ...
O THOU, whose sober precepts can controul The wild impatience of the troubled soul, Sweet Nymph serene ! whose all-consoling ...
As soon as Fred gets out of bed, his underwear goes on his head. His mother laughs, "Don't put it ...
Desine, Paulle, meum lacrimis urgere sepulcrum: nempe tuas lacrimas litora surda bibent. Propertius, IV.11 Don't cry for me, for only ...
Under yonder beech-tree single on the green-sward, Couched with her arms behind her golden head, Knees and tresses folded to ...
On eves of cold, when slow coal fires, rooted in basements, burn and branch, brushing with smoke the city air; ...
What does youth know of love? Little enough, I trow! He plucks the myrtle for his brow, For his forehead ...
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