Vintage, by Amy Lowell
I will mix me a drink of stars, --
Large star...
Animal Poems
The Way, by Amy Lowell
At first a mere thread of a footpath half blott...
A Winter Ride, by Amy Lowell
Who shall declare the joy of the running!
Who ...
The Death of Adonis, by Sappho
Fragments 108, 110, 115, 117, 116, 111, 1...
An Epithalamium, by Sappho
Fragments 91, 92, 99, 106, 104, 103, 100,...
Evening, by Sappho
Children astray to their mothers, and goats to...
Hesperus the Bringer, by Sappho
O Hesperus, thou bringest all good things--
H...
Hymn to Aphrodite, by Sappho
Daughter of Zeus and Immortal,
Aphrodite, se...
To a Youth Who Wooed a Woman Older than Himself, by Sappho
Friend, woo me not so earnestly.
&nbs...
Autumn Song, by Margaret Elizabeth Sangster
Let's go down the road together, you and I,
...
Colors, by Margaret Elizabeth Sangster
I love color.
I love flaming reds,
And vivid...
The Indian Raid, by Margaret Elizabeth Sangster
Harsh is the call of the wind to my ears,
Her...
Ad Lucium, by Aleister Crowley
The Lampsacene is girt with golden dress;
His...
Ad Lydiam, Ut Secum a Marito Fugeret, by Aleister Crowley
I The bird has chosen, and the world of sprin...
Alice, by Aleister Crowley
The roses of the world are sad,
The water-lil...
All Night, by Aleister Crowley
All night no change, no whisper. Scarce a brea...
Ballade de la Jolie Marion, by Aleister Crowley
It is a sweet thing to be loved,
Although my ...
Messaline, by Aleister Crowley
Beneath the living cross I lie
And swoon towar...
A Paean in the Springtide, by Aleister Crowley
Now is the triumph of Love, now is the day of ...
The Poem, by Aleister Crowley
I have no heart to sing.
what offering may I b...
The Rainbow, by Aleister Crowley
On land wrought of starlight rain lingers
In d...
Rondels, by Aleister Crowley
I Maid of dark eyes, that glow with shy sweet...
The Seventeenth Day, by Aleister Crowley
Last night--but the boy shrieked in's sleep--th...
To A. D., by Aleister Crowley
Across the sea that lies between us twain
I ga...
Under the Palms, by Aleister Crowley
The woodland hollows know us, bird-enchanted, ...