Noonday Grace (John Crowe Ransom Poems)
MY good old father tucked his head, (His face the color of gingerbread) Over the table my mother had spread, And folded his ...
MY good old father tucked his head, (His face the color of gingerbread) Over the table my mother had spread, And folded his ...
a soft wind through an LA window a goddess of a promised life transparent on the other side begs me ...
The other day I listened to a man on the radio who made uncommon common sense, 'specially since it was ...
About the size of an old-style dollar bill, American or Canadian, mostly the same whites, gray greens, and steel grays ...
Over stone walls and barns, miles from the black-eyed Susans, over circus tents and moon rockets you are going, going. ...
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