History (Robert Lowell Poem)
History has to live with what was here, clutching and close to fumbling all we had-- it is so dull ...
History has to live with what was here, clutching and close to fumbling all we had-- it is so dull ...
I Jesús, Estrella, Esperanza, Mercy: Sails flashing to the wind like weapons, sharks following the moans the fever and the ...
Terrifying are the attent sleek thrushes on the lawn, More coiled steel than living - a poised Dark deadly eye, ...
Never was there a night like that night we were in the fields as we always were watching the sheep ...
The flyer at the store a new zoo in town I loaded up my monster truck Almost ran over the ...
It was a slaughter all those of an age all under two years old put to death to assuage the ...
Little All-Aloney's feet Pitter-patter in the hall, And his mother runs to meet And to kiss her toddling sweet, Ere ...
My mother would be a falconress, And I, her gay falcon treading her wrist, would fly to bring back from ...
She turned her head on the pillow, and cried once more. And drawing a shaken breath, and closing her eyes, ...
The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them- all the exciting ...
Speaking of sunsets, last night's was shocking. I mean, sunsets aren't supposed to frighten you, are they? Well, this one ...
AGAINST THE GRAIN "Oxford be silent, I this truth must write Leeds hath for rarities undone thee quite." - William ...
Speaking of sunsets, last night's was shocking. I mean, sunsets aren't supposed to frighten you, are they? Well, this one ...
What I was doing with my white teeth exposed like that on the side of the road I don't know, ...
A bunch of old snakeheads down by the pond carrying on the swan tradition -- hissing inside their white bodies, ...
The riches of the poet are equal to his poetry His power is his left hand It is idle weak ...
Is the spider a monster in miniature? His web is a cruel stair, to be sure, Designed artfully, cunningly placed, ...
Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels' hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly pressed ...
That some day, emerging at last from the terrifying vision I may burst into jubilant praise to assenting angels! That ...
You are a friend then, as I make it out, Of our man Shakespeare, who alone of us Will put ...
Last night my soul cried, "O exalted sphere of Heaven, you hang indeed inverted, with flames in your belly. "Without ...
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