She bore it till the simple veins (Emily Dickinson Poem)
She bore it till the simple veins Traced azure on her hand -- Til pleading, round her quiet eyes The ...
She bore it till the simple veins Traced azure on her hand -- Til pleading, round her quiet eyes The ...
Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine, Unwind the solemn twine, and tie my Valentine! Oh the Earth ...
It is an abhorrent thing, this incarceration of your vulnerability, profoundly cruel in the way you were beaten to your ...
I The rutted roads are all like iron; skies Are keen and brilliant; only the oak-leaves cling In the bare ...
The sun goes down, and over all These barren reaches by the tide Such unelusive glories fall, I almost dream ...
I like the old house tolerably well, Where I must dwell Like a familiar gnome; And yet I never shall ...
Go thou gentle whispering wind, Bear this sigh; and if thou find Where my cruel fair doth rest, Cast it ...
Praise the good-tempered summer and the red cardinal that jumps like a hot coal off the track. Praise the heavy ...
The poplars are felled, farewell to the shade And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade: The winds play no ...
Sinuously winding through the room On smokey tongues of sweetened cigarettes, -- Plaintive yet proud the cello tones resume The ...
PART I 'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock And the owls have awakened the crowing cock; Tu-whit!- ...
On the desert A silence from the moon's deepest valley. Fire rays fall athwart the robes Of hooded men, squat ...
Old Elm that murmured in our chimney top The sweetest anthem autumn ever made And into mellow whispering calms would ...
Today we woke up to a revolution of snow, its white flag waving over everything, the landscape vanished, not a ...
Understand the language of fall, approaching: Cold mornings drawing your bundled warmth; sailing-leaf afternoons, the enchantment of melancholy, departure etched ...
Whose was that gentle voice, that, whispering sweet, Promised methought long days of bliss sincere! Soothing it stole on my ...
The sleepy sound of a tea-time tide Slaps at the rocks the sun has dried, Too lazy, almost, to sink ...
Those moments, tasted once and never done, Of long surf breaking in the mid-day sun. A far-off blow-hole booming like ...
When melancholy Autumn comes to Wembley And electric trains are lighted after tea The poplars near the stadium are trembly ...
I'll rest me in this sheltered bower, And look upon the clear blue sky That smiles upon me through the ...
That summer sun, whose genial glow Now cheers my drooping spirit so Must cold and distant be, And only light ...
I'll rest me in this sheltered bower, And look upon the clear blue sky That smiles upon me through the ...
I was but what you'd brush with your palm, what your leaning brow would hunch to in evening's raven-black hush. ...
I bended unto me a bough of May, That I might see and smell: It bore it in a sort ...
How clear she shines! How quietly I lie beneath her guardian light; While heaven and earth are whispering me, " ...
Death! that struck when I was most confiding In my certain faith of joy to be - Strike again, Time's ...
Ah! not now, when desire burns, and the wind calls, and the suns of spring Light-foot dance in the woods, ...
In your arms was still delight, Quiet as a street at night; And thoughts of you, I do remember, Were ...
As those of old drank mummia To fire their limbs of lead, Making dead kings from Africa Stand pandar to ...
Not with vain tears, when we're beyond the sun, We'll beat on the substantial doors, nor tread Those dusty high-roads ...
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