Poem (Louise Gluck Poem)
In the early evening, a now, as man is bending over his writing table. Slowly he lifts his head; a ...
In the early evening, a now, as man is bending over his writing table. Slowly he lifts his head; a ...
The nights have grown cool again, like the nights Of early spring, and quiet again. Will Speech disturb you? We're ...
When I made you, I loved you. Now I pity you. I gave you all you needed: bed of earth, ...
There was an apple tree in the yard -- this would have been forty years ago -- behind, only meadows. ...
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