Fitz Adam’s Story (James Russell Lowell Poems)
The next whose fortune 'twas a tale to tellWas one whom men, before they thought, loved well,And after thinking wondered ...
The next whose fortune 'twas a tale to tellWas one whom men, before they thought, loved well,And after thinking wondered ...
Nothing so true as what you once let fall,--"To growl at something is the lot of all;Contentment is a gem ...
A common wayside flower it grew, Unhandsome and unnoticed too, Except in deprecation That such an herb unreared by toil, Prolific cumberer of the ...
To hurt the Negro and avoid the JewIs the curriculum. In mid-SeptemberThe entering boys, identified by hats,Wander in a maze ...
THE flowers are at their Bacchanals Among the lusty green;Wild Orchis and Narcissus waltz With Marguerite for queen.Birds join in glees and ...
Is it illusion? or does there a spirit from perfecter ages, Here, even yet, amid loss, change, and corruption abide? ...
THE PRELIBATION To the SACRIFICE.ARGUMENT. Spes alit occiduas qui Sublunaribus haeret; Rivales JESUS non in Amore sinit. Quid mihi non ...
1white curtains of infinite fatiguedominating the starborn heritage of the colonies of St Franciswhite curtains of tortured destiniesinheriting the calamities ...
Prudence Mears hath an old blue plate Hid away in an oaken chest,And a Franklin platter of ancient date Beareth ...
Though each one has a head of wood,Theirs is a wiser brotherhoodThan any man has understood:The giant sequoia, with his ...
Lazy-bones, lazy-bones, wake up and peep;The Cat's in the cupboard, your Mother's asleep.There you sit snoring, forgetting her ills:Who is ...
Unblest by soothing winds of warmer days, My songs remain, since from you, haughty maid, They never won the word ...
Dear Colette, I want to write to you about being a woman for that is what you write to me. ...
For Carl Solomon I I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves ...
Prince, show me the quickest way and best To gain the subject of my moan; We've neither spinsters nor relics ...
Prudence Mears hath an old blue plate Hid away in an oaken chest, And a Franklin platter of ancient date ...
Those villages stricken with the melancholia of Sunday, in all of whose ocher streets one dog is sleeping those volcanoes ...
Of all the rides since the birth of time, Told in story or sung in rhyme, - On Apuleius' Golden ...
How this tart fable instructs And mocks! Here's the parody of that moral mousetrap Set in the proverbs stitched on ...
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