Malmaison (Amy Lowell Poem)
I How the slates of the roof sparkle in the sun, over there, over there, beyond the high wall! How ...
I How the slates of the roof sparkle in the sun, over there, over there, beyond the high wall! How ...
1 A yellow band of light upon the street Pours from an open door, and makes a wide Pathway of ...
O Sovereign power of love! O grief! O balm! All records, saving thine, come cool, and calm, And shadowy, through ...
WHAT flower is this that greets the morn, Its hues from Heaven so freshly born? With burning star and flaming ...
Why dost thou wound and break my heart, As if we should for ever part? Hast thou not heard an ...
Dew sat on Julia's hair, And spangled too, Like leaves that laden are With trembling dew. Or glittered to my ...
Spring Up, up you go, you must be introduced. You must learn belonging to (no-one) Drenched in the white veil ...
For Carl Solomon I I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves ...
The Sun -- just touched the Morning -- The Morning -- Happy thing -- Supposed that He had come to ...
Of Tribulation, these are They, Denoted by the White -- The Spangled Gowns, a lesser Rank Of Victors -- designate ...
Budger of history Brake of time You Bomb Toy of universe Grandest of all snatched sky I cannot hate you ...
He sleeps on the top of a mast. - Bunyan He sleeps on the top of a mast with his ...
[As a Tribute of Esteem and Admiration this Poem is inscribed to ROBERT MERRY, Esq. A. M. Member of the ...
Undoubtedly he will relent, and turn From his displeasure; in whose look serene, When angry most he seemed and most ...
O'RE the smooth enameld green Where no print of step hath been, Follow me as I sing, And touch the ...
A Masque Presented At Ludlow Castle, 1634, Before The Earl Of Bridgewater, Then President Of Wales. The Persons The ATTENDANT ...
I This is the Month, and this the happy morn Wherin the Son of Heav'ns eternal King, Of wedded Maid, ...
I bought a dollar and a half's worth of small red potatoes, took them home, boiled them in their jackets ...
This poem is intended as a description of a sort of Blashfield mural painting on the sky. To be sung ...
Too soon you wearied of our tears. And then you danced with spangled feet, Leading Belshazzar's chattering court A-tinkling through ...
Last night at black midnight I woke with a cry, The windows were shaking, there was thunder on high, The ...
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