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 ...
Part First Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut the door. A storm was rising, heavy gusts of wind Swirled through the trees, ...
Streaks of green and yellow iridescence, Silver shiftings, Rings veering out of rings, Silver -- gold -- Grey-green opaqueness sliding ...
Bath The day is fresh-washed and fair, and there is a smell of tulips and narcissus in the air. The ...
Cross-ribboned shoes; a muslin gown, High-waisted, girdled with bright blue; A straw poke bonnet which hid the frown She pluckered ...
On yardbird corners of embryonic hopes, drowned in a heroin tear. On yardbird corners of parkerflights to sound filled pockets ...
The Song of Mowgli -- I, Mowgli, am singing. Let the jungle listen to the things I have done. Shere ...
O SORROW! Why dost borrow The natural hue of health, from vermeil lips?-- To give maiden blushes To the white ...
Muse of my native land! loftiest Muse! O first-born on the mountains! by the hues Of heaven on the spiritual ...
Pure fasted faces draw unto this feast: God comes all sweetness to your Lenten lips. You striped in secret with ...
(in china it is symbolic of darkness and the new moon) in your night's hollow the tiger stalks black grasses ...
My maternal grandparents were snowbirds; the scent of their plumage an evergreen air freshener dangling off the rearview mirror of ...
PART I On Susquehanna's side, fair Wyoming! Although the wild-flower on thy ruin'd wall, And roofless homes, a sad remembrance ...
I can scare children as the Victorians aimed to do even on an August beach tell a fairy tale one ...
After the whipping he crawled into bed, Accepting the harsh fact with no great weeping. How funny uncle's hat had ...
And thus the people every year in the valley of humid July did sacrifice themselves to the long green phallic ...
Give me back my rags My rags of pure dreaming Of silk smiling of striped foreboding Of my cloth of ...
(1) This is the sea, then, this great abeyance. How the sun's poultice draws on my inflammation. Electrifyingly-colored sherbets, scooped ...
The day you died I went into the dirt, Into the lightless hibernaculum Where bees, striped black and gold, sleep ...
I. Insomnia The bulb at the front door burns and burns. If it were a white rose it would tire ...
Lo from our loitering ship a new land at last to be seen; Toothed rocks down the side of the ...
--The Carpathian Frontier, October, 1968 --for my brother Once, in a foreign country, I was suddenly ill. I was driving ...
Dürer would have seen a reason for living in a town like this, with eight stranded whales to look at; ...
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