The Cremona Violin (Amy Lowell Poem)
Part First Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut the door. A storm was rising, heavy gusts of wind Swirled through the trees, ...
Part First Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut the door. A storm was rising, heavy gusts of wind Swirled through the trees, ...
There are who lord it o'er their fellow-men With most prevailing tinsel: who unpen Their baaing vanities, to browse away ...
Muse of my native land! loftiest Muse! O first-born on the mountains! by the hues Of heaven on the spiritual ...
'There is not much that I can do, For I've no money that's quite my own!' Spoke up the pitying ...
A Texas twang would be better than a yankee accent so picture it soundin' southern this little story I'll share ...
Good editor Dana--God bless him, we say-- Will soon be afloat on the main, Will be steaming away Through the ...
I didn't make you know how glad I was To have you come and camp here on our land. I ...
Afield at dusk What things for dream there are when specter-like, Moving amond tall haycocks lightly piled, I enter alone ...
Let's talk about the weather then, would that help you take your ease? Gossip is so rare from you the ...
BY QUEVEDO REDIVIVUS SUGGESTED BY THE COMPOSITION SO ENTITLED BY THE AUTHOR OF 'WAT TYLER' 'A Daniel come to judgment! ...
This is going to cost you. If you really want to hear a country fiddle, you have to listen hard, ...
MY curse upon your venom'd stang, That shoots my tortur'd gums alang, An' thro' my lug gies mony a twang, ...
Already I am no longer looked at with lechery or love. My daughters and sons have put me away with ...
I woo'd a woman once, But she was sharper than an eastern wind. Tennyson "What may I do to make ...
Of all the rides since the birth of time, Told in story or sung in rhyme, - On Apuleius' Golden ...
Apollo's wrath to man the dreadful spring Of ills innum'rous, tuneful goddess, sing! Thou who did'st first th' ideal pencil ...
1 PROUD music of the storm! Blast that careers so free, whistling across the prairies! Strong hum of forest tree-tops! ...
MY father left a park to me, But it is wild and barren, A garden too with scarce a tree, ...
No, Bill, I'm not a-spooning out no patriotic tosh (The cove be'ind the sandbags ain't a death-or-glory cuss). And though ...
I'd rather be the Jester than the Minstrel of the King; I'd rather jangle cap and bells than twang the ...
Within this sober Frame expect Work of no Forrain Architect; That unto Caves the Quarries drew, And Forrests did to ...
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