Off the Turnpike (Amy Lowell Poem)
Good ev'nin', Mis' Priest. I jest stepped in to tell you Good-bye. Yes, it's all over. All my things is ...
Good ev'nin', Mis' Priest. I jest stepped in to tell you Good-bye. Yes, it's all over. All my things is ...
"Give me of your bark, O Birch-tree! Of your yellow bark, O Birch-tree! Growing by the rushing river, Tall and ...
The butcher knife goes in, first, at the top And carves out the round stemmed lid, The hole of which ...
Who cleaned up the Last Supper? These would be my people. Maybe hung over, wanting desperately a better job, standing ...
'My father still reads the dictionary every day. He says your life depends on your power to master words.' Arthur ...
Hard as hurdle arms, with a broth of goldish flue Breathed round; the rack of ribs; the scooped flank; lank ...
i i shall die yearning a hand reaching out to a face that isn't there a face seeking a hand ...
Oh man! Nothing Mom and Dad were away; I had such big plans Four kinds of ice cream, scooped, melting ...
The Brain, within its Groove Runs evenly -- and true -- But let a Splinter swerve -- 'Twere easier for ...
I taste a liquor never brewed -- From Tankards scooped in Pearl -- Not all the Vats upon the Rhine ...
The day had been a day of wind and storm;-- The wind was laid, the storm was overpast,-- And stooping ...
Sometimes, I forget the sun sinking into ocean. Desert is only a handful of sand held by my daughter. In ...
I. I stand on the mark beside the shore Of the first white pilgrim's bended knee, Where exile turned to ...
Before those cruel twins whom at one birth Incestuous Change bore to her father Time, Error and Truth, had hunted ...
Earth, Ocean, Air, belovèd brotherhood! If our great Mother has imbued my soul With aught of natural piety to feel ...
WHO knows what I know when I have asked the night questions and the night has answered nothing only the ...
(1) This is the sea, then, this great abeyance. How the sun's poultice draws on my inflammation. Electrifyingly-colored sherbets, scooped ...
It seemed that out of the battle I escaped Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped Through granites which ...
I have fetched the tears up out of the little wells, Scooped them up with small, iron words, Dripping over ...
There are only two things now, The great black night scooped out And this fireglow. This fireglow, the core, And ...
The sick grapes on the chair by the bed lie prone; at the window The tassel of the blind swings ...
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