Waking In March (Philip Levine Poems)
Last night, again, I dreamed my children were back at home, small boys huddled in their separate beds, and I ...
Last night, again, I dreamed my children were back at home, small boys huddled in their separate beds, and I ...
Where a river roars in rapids And doves in maples fret, Where peace has decked the pastures Our guardian angels ...
Oft seems the Time a market-town Where many merchant-spirits meet Who up and down and up and down Cry out ...
If the shoe fell from the other foot who would hear? If the door opened onto a pure darkness and ...
A Fantasy, dedicated to the little poet Alice Oliver Henderson, ten years old. The Fantasy shows how tiger-hearts are the ...
A Story of Christmas Eve. Strange that the termagant winds should scold The Christmas Eve so bitterly! But Wife, and ...
My father and mother, two tiny figures, side by side, facing the clouds that move in from the Atlantic. August, ...
In the midst of the battle I turned, (For the thunders could flourish ...
Chapter I. Once on a time, a Dawn, all red and bright Leapt on the conquered ramparts of the Night, ...
The day comes slowly in the railyard behind the ice factory. It broods on one cinder after another until each ...
She was taught desire in the street, Not at the angels' feet. By the good no word was said Of ...
The river rises and the rains keep coming. My Papa says it can't flood for the water can run away ...
This is the song The spice-tree sings: "Hunger and fire, Hunger and fire, Sky-born Beauty- Spice of desire," Under the ...
Can you imagine the air filled with smoke? It was. The city was vanishing before noon or was it earlier ...
Chant we the story now Tho' in a ...
Pond snipe, bleached pine, rue weed, wart -- I walk by sedge and brown river rot to where the old ...
Sometimes I dip my pen and find the bottle full of fire, The salamanders flying forth I cannot but admire. ...
This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green, Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes, Thorn-blossom lifting ...
THE DREAM This has nothing to do with war or the end of the world. She dreams there are gray ...
St. Francis, Buddha, Tolstoi, and St. John - Friends, if you four, as pilgrims, hand in hand, Returned, the hate ...
Out of the darkness, fretted sometimes in its sleeping, Jets of sparks in fountains of blue come leaping To sight, ...
Los Angeles hums a little tune -- trucks down the coast road for Monday Market packed with small faces blinking ...
Sweetheart Spring Our Sweetheart, Spring, came softly, Her gliding hands were fire, Her lilac breath upon our cheeks Consumed us ...
All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does ...
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size But when ...
I do not love you except because I love you; I go from loving to not loving you, From waiting ...
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