Twenty-Four Hokku On A Modern Theme (Amy Lowell Poems)
I Again the larkspur, Heavenly blue in my garden. They, at least, unchanged. II How have I ...
I Again the larkspur, Heavenly blue in my garden. They, at least, unchanged. II How have I ...
You — you — Your shadow is sunlight on a plate of silver; Your footsteps, the seeding-place of lilies; Your ...
White, glittering sunlight fills the market square, Spotted and sprigged with shadows. Double rows Of bartering booths spread out their ...
Swept, clean, and still, across the polished floor From some unshuttered casement, hid from sight, The level sunshine slants, its ...
How beautiful are the corn rows, Stretching to the morning sun, Stretching to the evening sun. Very beautiful, the long ...
The Bell in the convent tower swung. High overhead the great sun hung, A navel for the curving sky. The ...
The fountain bent and straightened itself In the night wind, Blowing like a flower. It gleamed and glittered, A tall ...
I How fresh the Dartle's little waves that day! A steely silver, underlined with blue, And flashing where the round ...
A music-stand of crimson lacquer, long since brought In some fast clipper-ship from China, quaintly wrought With bossed and carven ...
Swept, clean, and still, across the polished floor From some unshuttered casement, hid from sight, The level sunshine slants, its ...
I The inkstand is full of ink, and the paper lies white and unspotted, in the round of light thrown ...
I Frindsbury, Kent, 1786 Bang! Bang! Tap! Tap-a-tap! Rap! All through the lead and silver Winter days, All through the ...
Wild little bird, who chose thee for a sign To put upon the cover of this book? Who heard thee ...
The little boy pressed his face against the window-pane and looked out at the bright sunshiny morning. The cobble-stones of ...
Part First Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut the door. A storm was rising, heavy gusts of wind Swirled through the trees, ...
Paul Jannes was working very late, For this watch must be done by eight To-morrow or the Cardinal Would certainly ...
A drifting, April, twilight sky, A wind which blew the puddles dry, And slapped the river into waves That ran ...
Bath The day is fresh-washed and fair, and there is a smell of tulips and narcissus in the air. The ...
Cross-ribboned shoes; a muslin gown, High-waisted, girdled with bright blue; A straw poke bonnet which hid the frown She pluckered ...
At first a mere thread of a footpath half blotted out by the grasses Sweeping triumphant across it, it wound ...
The nursery fire burns brightly, crackling in cheerful little explosions and trails of sparks up the back of the chimney. ...
I walk down the garden paths, And all the daffodils Are blowing, and the bright blue squills. I walk down ...
When you, my Dear, are away, away, How wearily goes the creeping day. A year drags after morning, and night ...
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