Pickthorn Manor (Amy Lowell Poem)
I How fresh the Dartle's little waves that day! A steely silver, underlined with blue, And flashing where the round ...
I How fresh the Dartle's little waves that day! A steely silver, underlined with blue, And flashing where the round ...
1 A yellow band of light upon the street Pours from an open door, and makes a wide Pathway of ...
Now Jones had left his new-wed bride to keep his house in order, And hied away to the Hurrum Hills ...
What do we learn from the roads not taken, of choices made without full exploration? "What if", and "where would ...
The Fingers of the Light Tapped soft upon the Town With "I am great and cannot wait So therefore let ...
The Wind -- tapped like a tired Man -- And like a Host -- "Come in" I boldly answered -- ...
For a Child of 1918 My grandfather said to me as we sat on the wagon seat, "Be sure to ...
The parrot, screeching, flew out into the darkness, Circled three times above the upturned faces With a great whir of ...
As Parmigianino did it, the right hand Bigger than the head, thrust at the viewer And swerving easily away, as ...
Before I knocked and flesh let enter, With liquid hands tapped on the womb, I who was as shapeless as ...
Not that it was beautiful, but that, in the end, there was a certain sense of order there; something worth ...
for my friend Ruth, who urges me to make an appointment for the Sacrament of Confesson Concerning your letter in ...
Not that it was beautiful, but that, in the end, there was a certain sense of order there; something worth ...
I used to think a pot of ink Held magic in its fluid, And I would ply a pen when ...
Ma tried to wash her garden slacks but couldn't get 'em clean And so she thought she'd soak 'em in ...
In Paris on a morn of May I sent a radio transalantic To catch a steamer on the way, But ...
A grey gull hovered overhead, Then wisely flew away. 'In half a jiffy you'll be dead,' I thought I heard ...
What guts he had, the Dago lad Who fought that Frenchman grim with guile; For nigh an hour they milled ...
(To Mrs. Henry Richards) Isaac and Archibald were two old men. I knew them, and I may have laughed at ...
You bring me good news from the clinic, Whipping off your silk scarf, exhibiting the tight white Mummy-cloths, smiling: I'm ...
PART ONE The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed ...
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