A London Thoroughfare. 2 A.M (Amy Lowell Poem)
They have watered the street, It shines in the glare of lamps, Cold, white lamps, And lies Like a slow-moving ...
They have watered the street, It shines in the glare of lamps, Cold, white lamps, And lies Like a slow-moving ...
It was pleasant up the country, City Bushman, where you went, For you sought the greener patches and you travelled ...
Out of the poisonous East, Over a continent of blight, Like a maleficent Influence released From the most squalid cellerage ...
O epic-famed, god-haunted Central Sea, Heave careless of the deep wrong done to thee When from Torino's track I saw ...
Thousand minstrels woke within me, "Our music's in the hills; "- Gayest pictures rose to win me, Leopard-colored rills. Up!-If ...
I hadn't had the 'flu in ages, avoided all those awful places fraught of gritty eyes and splitting heads, patrons ...
The south-wind strengthens to a gale, Across the moon the clouds fly fast, The house is smitten as with a ...
"Had we never loved so kindly, Had we never loved so blindly, Never met or never parted, We had ne'er ...
"Had we never loved so kindly, Had we never loved so blindly, Never met or never parted, We had ne'er ...
BY all I lov'd, neglected and forgot, No friendly face e'er lights my squalid cot; Shunn'd, hated, wrong'd, unpitied, unredrest, ...
Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita mi ritrovai per una selva oscura ch? la diritta via era smarrita . ...
'Twas August, and the fierce sun overhead Smote on the squalid streets of Bethnal Green, And the pale weaver, through ...
THOU, Nature, partial Nature, I arraign; Of thy caprice maternal I complain. The peopled fold thy kindly care have found, ...
LATE crippl'd of an arm, and now a leg, About to beg a pass for leave to beg; Dull, listless, ...
WHEN biting Boreas, fell and dour, Sharp shivers thro' the leafless bow'r; When Phoebus gies a short-liv'd glow'r, Far south ...
'Tis strange that in a land so strong So strong and bold in mighty youth, We have no poet's voice ...
So you're back from up the country, Mister Lawson, where you went, And you're cursing all the business in a ...
to Robert Hass and in memory of Elliot Gilbert Slow dulcimer, gavotte and bow, in autumn, Bashõ and his friends ...
1 O! Solitude, my sweetest choice Places devoted to the night, Remote from tumult, and from noise, How you my ...
Words are like days: coloring books or pickpockets, signposts or scratching posts, fakirs over hot coals. Certain words must be ...
Let not our town be large, remembering That little Athens was the Muses' home, That Oxford rules the heart of ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories