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! ...
What charm is yours, you faded old-world tapestries, Of outworn, childish mysteries, Vague pageants woven on a web of dream! ...
Boys dream of native girls who bring breadfruit, Whatever they are, As bribes to teach them how to execute Sixteen ...
PART I Queen Hilda rode along the lines, And she was young and fair; And forward on her shoulders fell ...
After Joseph Roth Parce que c'était lui; parce que c'était moi. Montaigne, De L'amitië The dream's forfeit was a night ...
Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain, Where health and plenty cheered the labouring swain, Where smiling spring its earliest ...
There is always something to be made of pain. Your mother knits. She turns out scarves in every shade of ...
From out of her poverty, out of her gifts the least found clothes, caring, warmth Her hands, aged, widowed hands ...
"Sweetheart, take this," a soldier said, "And bid me brave good-by; It may befall we ne'er shall wed, But love ...
Shall I woo the one or other? Both attract me--more's the pity! Pretty is the widowed mother, And the daughter, ...
My lute, be as thou wert when thou didst grow With thy green mother in some shady grove, When immelodious ...
Phoebus make haste, the day's too long, be gone, The silent night's the fittest time for moan; But stay this ...
ANDROMACHE, I think of you! The stream, The poor, sad mirror where in bygone days Shone all the majesty of ...
This is the house of Bedlam. This is the man that lies in the house of Bedlam. This is the ...
I could have sold him up because His rent was long past due; And Grimes, my lawyer, said it was ...
THE relic taken, what avails the shrine? The locket, pictureless? O heart of mine, Art thou not worse than that, ...
How like a winter hath my absence been From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! What freezings have I ...
(AMSTERDAM, 1645) And there you are again, now as you are. Observe yourself as you discern yourself In your discredited ...
I Partly to think, more to be left alone, George Annandale said something to his friends- A word or two, ...
The summer like a rajah dies, And every widowed tree Kindles for Congregationalist eyes An alien suttee. (Ogden Nash)
Distraction is the panacea, Sir! I hear my oracle of Medicine say. Doctor! that same specific yesterday I tried, and ...
Thistle and darnell and dock grew there, And a bush, in the corner, of may, On the orchard wall I ...
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