Francis II, King of Naples (Amy Lowell Poem)
Written after reading Trevelyan's "Garibaldi and the making of Italy" Poor foolish monarch, vacillating, vain, Decaying victim of a race ...
Poems about tarnished (27 Poems)
The Red Lacquer Music-Stand (Amy Lowell Poem)
A music-stand of crimson lacquer, long since brought In some fast clipper-ship from China, quaintly wrought With bossed and carven ...
Sunshine through a Cobwebbed Window (Amy Lowell Poem)
What charm is yours, you faded old-world tapestries, Of outworn, childish mysteries, Vague pageants woven on a web of dream! ...
The Boston Athenaeum (Amy Lowell Poem)
Thou dear and well-loved haunt of happy hours, How often in some distant gallery, Gained by a little painful spiral ...
In a Castle (Amy Lowell Poem)
I Over the yawning chimney hangs the fog. Drip -- hiss -- drip -- hiss -- fall the raindrops on ...
An Aquarium (Amy Lowell Poem)
Streaks of green and yellow iridescence, Silver shiftings, Rings veering out of rings, Silver -- gold -- Grey-green opaqueness sliding ...
Sword Blades and Poppy Seed (Amy Lowell Poem)
A drifting, April, twilight sky, A wind which blew the puddles dry, And slapped the river into waves That ran ...
Sarabande On Attaining The Age Of Seventy-Seven (Anthony Hecht Poem)
The harbingers are come. See, see their mark; White is their colour; and behold my head. -- George Herbert Long ...
Dorothy Q. (Oliver Wendell Holmes Poem)
GRANDMOTHER's mother: her age, I guess, Thirteen summers, or something less; Girlish bust, but womanly air; Smooth, square forehead with ...
The Silent Melody (Oliver Wendell Holmes Poem)
"BRING me my broken harp," he said; "We both are wrecks,-- but as ye will,-- Though all its ringing tones ...
ORIGINAL PREFACE. (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Poem)
I feel no small reluctance in venturing to give to the public a work of the character of that indicated ...
A Lost Sheep (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
For so long a lost sheep a prodigal son out in the world far from home away from the shepherd ...
The Slumber of Winter (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
The world contracting pulling in on itself slowing down and sleeping like the animals hibernating under a blanket of white ...
Being Ever New Clay (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
Mold me, Lord. Pick me back up, when I am chipped, cracked, broken into pieces, when my glaze fades, when ...
Evocative (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
Words - Incendiary exacerbate Infant broken Tarnished valued Beautiful infinite Frozen rush Red green Precipice void Rough smooth Slippery taste ...
Little Willie (Eugene Field Poem)
When Willie was a little boy, No more than five or six, Right constantly he did annoy His mother with ...
Before the ice is in the pools (Emily Dickinson Poem)
Before the ice is in the pools -- Before the skaters go, Or any check at nightfall Is tarnished by ...
Far, far away is mirth withdrawn (Emily Bronte Poem)
Far, far away is mirth withdrawn 'Tis three long hours before the morn And I watch lonely, drearily - So ...
Self-Interrogation (Emily Bronte Poem)
The evening passes fast away, 'Tis almost time to rest; What thoughts has left the vanished day, What feelings, in ...
Song For The Rainy Season (Elizabeth Bishop Poem)
Hidden, oh hidden in the high fog the house we live in, beneath the magnetic rock, rain-, rainbow-ridden, where blood-black ...
The Fish (Elizabeth Bishop Poem)
I caught a tremendous fish and held him beside the boat half out of water, with my hook fast in ...
The House Of Dust: Part 02: 11: Snow falls. The sky is grey, and sullenly glares (Conrad Aiken Poem)
Snow falls. The sky is grey, and sullenly glares With purple lights in the canyoned street. The fiery sign on ...
The House Of Dust: Part 02: 05: Retrospect (Conrad Aiken Poem)
Round white clouds roll slowly above the housetops, Over the clear red roofs they flow and pass. A flock of ...
Shadblow (Linda Pastan Poems)
Because the shad are swimming in our waters now, breaching the skin of the river with their tarnished silvery fins, ...
Portrait d’Une Femme (Ezra Pound Poems)
Your mind and you are our Sargasso Sea, London has swept about you this score years And bright ships left ...
The Fathers (Edwin Muir Poems)
Our fathers all were poor, Poorer our fathers' fathers; Beyond, we dare not look. We, the sons, keep store Of ...
December 14 (David Lehman Poems)
This bed thy center is, these walls, thy sphere, The tarnished, gaudy, wonderful old work Of hand, of foot, of ...