A Coloured Print by Shokei (Amy Lowell Poem)
It winds along the face of a cliff This path which I long to explore, And over it dashes a ...
It winds along the face of a cliff This path which I long to explore, And over it dashes a ...
I own a solace shut within my heart, A garden full of many a quaint delight And warm with drowsy, ...
Hear now the Song of the Dead -- in the North by the torn berg-edges -- They that look still ...
all is still on this starless night the mountain waits quiescent as a cat smoothing crag and chasm to a ...
MANY good works I've done and ended, Ye take the praise--I'm not offended; For in the world, I've always thought ...
A purple whale Proudly sweeps his tail Towards Nineveh; Glassy green Surges between A mile of roaring sea. "O town ...
The sky, the air, everything, everywhere I look not a fog, a filter, a screen, a white veneer lowering, darkening, ...
A lighted window floats through the night like a piece of paper in the wind. I want to see into ...
You've seen Balloons set -- Haven't You? So stately they ascend -- It is as Swans -- discarded You, For ...
On an ebony bed decorated with coral eagles, sound asleep lies Nero -- unconscious, quiet, and blissful; thriving in the ...
I. Your ghost will walk, you lover of trees, (If our loves remain) In an English lane, By a cornfield-side ...
Round white clouds roll slowly above the housetops, Over the clear red roofs they flow and pass. A flock of ...
AULD comrade dear, and brither sinner, How's a' the folk about Glenconner? How do you this blae eastlin wind, That's ...
RecitativoWHEN lyart leaves bestrow the yird, Or wavering like the bauckie-bird, Bedim cauld Boreas' blast; When hailstanes drive wi' bitter ...
ARGUMENT. Baile and Aillinn were lovers, but Aengus, the Master of Love, wishing them to he happy in his own ...
The brave Geraint, a knight of Arthur's court, A tributary prince of Devon, one Of that great Order of the ...
SLEEP is a maker of makers. Birds sleep. Feet cling to a perch. Look at the balance. Let the legs ...
When you're lying in your hammock, sleeping soft and sleeping sound, Without a care or trouble on your mind, And ...
The artichoke of delicate heart erect in its battle-dress, builds its minimal cupola; keeps stark in its scallop of scales. ...
To Jena Woodhouse This way of minutes miserably mixed With their own blinks misunderstood By birds and trees, this eye-born ...
I will think no more of the sea! Of the big green waves And the hollowed shore, Of the brown ...
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