The Leaf And The Tree (Edna St. Vincent Millay Poems)
When will you learn, myself, to be a dying leaf on a living tree? Budding, swelling, growing strong, Wearing green, ...
When will you learn, myself, to be a dying leaf on a living tree? Budding, swelling, growing strong, Wearing green, ...
When you go away the wind clicks around to the north The painters work all day but at sundown the ...
Not soon, as late as the approach of my ninetieth year, I felt a door opening in me and I ...
Together in this grave lie Benjamin Painter, attorney at law, And Nig, his dog, constant companion, solace and friend. Down ...
The old war is over the new one has begun between drivers and pedestrians on a Friday in New York ...
At Quattro Gatti, she is the poet-in-residence: In Barcelona, Piccasso started here, painting A humble sketch of a picket-white fence. ...
WRITTEN FOR LORADO TAFT'S STATUE OF BLACK HAWK AT OREGON, ILLINOIS To be given in the manner of the Indian ...
Climbing the heights of Berkeley Nightly I watch the West. There lies new San Francisco, Sea-maid in purple dressed, Wearing ...
O you who lose the art of hope, Whose temples seem to shrine a lie, Whose sidewalks are but stones ...
"So pulse, and pulse, thou rhythmic-hearted Noon That liest, large-limbed, curved along the hills, In languid palpitation, half a-swoon With ...
It is true love because I put on eyeliner and a concerto and make pungent observations about the great issues ...
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