The Book of Hours of Sister Clotilde (Amy Lowell Poem)
The Bell in the convent tower swung. High overhead the great sun hung, A navel for the curving sky. The ...
The Bell in the convent tower swung. High overhead the great sun hung, A navel for the curving sky. The ...
1 A yellow band of light upon the street Pours from an open door, and makes a wide Pathway of ...
for Sydney Pettit The lines are keen against today's bad sky about to rain. We're white and understand why Indians ...
when they look into his mind they find a hill town somewhat surprised they go off to their learned books ...
Love at the lips was touch As sweet as I could bear; And once that seemed too much; I lived ...
Sweet bird, that sing'st away the early hours Of winters past or coming, void of care, Well pleased with delights ...
In Ionia whence sprang old poets' fame, From whom that sea did first derive her name, The blessed bed whereon ...
Passer-by, these are words. But instead of reading I want you to listen: to this frail Voice like that of ...
CARRYING bouquet, and handkerchief, and gloves, Proud of her height as when she lived, she moves With all the careless ...
Pellam the King, who held and lost with Lot In that first war, and had his realm restored But rendered ...
I know a village in a far-off land Where from a sunny, mountain-girdled plain With tinted walls a space on ...
From wrath-red dawn to wrath-red dawn, The guns have brayed without abate; And now the sick sun looks upon The ...
When your marrer bone seems 'oller, And you're glad you ain't no taller, And you're all a-shakin' like you 'ad ...
The glorying forest shakes and swings with glancing Of boughs that dip and strain; young, slanting sprays Beckon and shift ...
THE ROSES slanted crimson sobs On the night sky hair of the women, And the long light-fingered men Spoke to ...
BAND concert public square Nebraska city. Flowing and circling dresses, summer-white dresses. Faces, flesh tints flung like sprays of cherry ...
EVEN as a bird sprays many-coloured fires, The plumes of paradise, the dying light Rays through the fevered air in ...
OH, if my spirit may foretell Or earlier impart, It is because I always dwell With morning in my heart. ...
Before you can learn the trees, you have to learn The language of the trees. That's done indoors, Out of ...
I As the blind Milton's memory of light, The deaf Beethoven's phantasy of tone, Wroght joys for them surpassing all ...
For ever wave, for ever float and shine Before my yearning eyes, oh! dream of mine Wherein I dreamed that ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories