The Sundays Of Satin-Legs Smith (Gwendolyn Elizabeth Brooks Poems)
Inamoratas, with an approbation,Bestowed his title. Blessed his inclination.He wakes, unwinds, elaborately: a catTawny, reluctant, royal. He is fatAnd fine ...
Inamoratas, with an approbation,Bestowed his title. Blessed his inclination.He wakes, unwinds, elaborately: a catTawny, reluctant, royal. He is fatAnd fine ...
At home we pray every morning, weget down on our knees in a circle,holding hands, holding Love,and we sing hallelujah.Then ...
But in the crowding darkness not a word did they say.Though the pretty-coated birds had piped so lightly all the ...
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