A Japanese Wood-Carving (Amy Lowell Poem)
High up above the open, welcoming door It hangs, a piece of wood with colours dim. Once, long ago, it ...
High up above the open, welcoming door It hangs, a piece of wood with colours dim. Once, long ago, it ...
The wind is singing through the trees to-night, A deep-voiced song of rushing cadences And crashing intervals. No summer breeze ...
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