At Night (Amy Lowell Poem)
The wind is singing through the trees to-night, A deep-voiced song of rushing cadences And crashing intervals. No summer breeze ...
The wind is singing through the trees to-night, A deep-voiced song of rushing cadences And crashing intervals. No summer breeze ...
April had covered the hills With flickering yellows and reds, The sparkle and coolness of snow Was blown from the ...
At first a mere thread of a footpath half blotted out by the grasses Sweeping triumphant across it, it wound ...
Slipping softly through the sky Little horned, happy moon, Can you hear me up so high? Will you come down ...
I know a country laced with roads, They join the hills and they span the brooks, They weave like a ...
A near horizon whose sharp jags Cut brutally into a sky Of leaden heaviness, and crags Of houses lift their ...
Before the Altar, bowed, he stands With empty hands; Upon it perfumed offerings burn Wreathing with smoke the sacrificial urn. ...
I walk down the garden paths, And all the daffodils Are blowing, and the bright blue squills. I walk down ...
Sea Shell, Sea Shell, Sing me a song, O Please! A song of ships, and sailor men, And parrots, and ...
Some men there are who find in nature all Their inspiration, hers the sympathy Which spurs them on to any ...
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