Earliest Spring (William Dean Howells Poem)
TOSSING his mane of snows in wildest eddies and tangles, Lion-like March cometh in, hoarse, with tempestuous breath, Through all ...
TOSSING his mane of snows in wildest eddies and tangles, Lion-like March cometh in, hoarse, with tempestuous breath, Through all ...
In the fairy tale the sky makes of itself a coat because it needs you to put it on. How ...
How do we discover an antidote to each other, a faculty to commune in spiteful space? Our bleeding hearts and ...
Even tonight will pass into memory's oblivion, doomed, despite an ardent reunion of once estranged yet precisely matched parts, to ...
I The roaring of Te Whaiau intake weir intrudes as sleep eludes again to soar across the lake on white-tipped, ...
I bought a new broom today and swept the cobwebs down, A thick accumulation of dregs, a mass of tangles ...
My locks are shorn for sorrow Of love which may not be; Tomorrow and tomorrow Are plotting cruelty. The winter ...
This winter air is keen and cold, And keen and cold this winter sun, But round my chair the children ...
Her ivory hands on the ivory keys Strayed in a fitful fantasy, Like the silver gleam when the poplar trees ...
Nay, let us walk from fire unto fire, From passionate pain to deadlier delight, - I am too young to ...
Here is the place; right over the hill Runs the path I took; You can see the gap in the ...
I. He was a Grecian lad, who coming home With pulpy figs and wine from Sicily Stood at his galley's ...
1 AS I sat alone, by blue Ontario's shore, As I mused of these mighty days, and of peace return'd, ...
'Pass it along, the wiring party's going out'- And yawning sentries mumble, 'Wirers going out.' Unravelling; twisting; hammering stakes with ...
Dim, gradual thinning of the shapeless gloom Shudders to drizzling daybreak that reveals Disconsolate men who stamp their sodden boots ...
NAY, no longer I may hold you, In my spirit's soft caresses, Nor like lotus-leaves enfold you In the tangles ...
Kind solace in a dying hour! Such, father, is not (now) my theme- I will not madly deem that power ...
I winged my bird, Though he flew toward the setting sun; But just as the shot rang out, he soared ...
No more of talk where God or Angel guest With Man, as with his friend, familiar us'd, To sit indulgent, ...
O'RE the smooth enameld green Where no print of step hath been, Follow me as I sing, And touch the ...
In this Monody the author bewails a learned Friend, unfortunately drowned in his passage from Chester on the Irish Seas, ...
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