The Bird at Greenwood, by Edna Dean Proctor
From the grave of a lovely maiden
A white cros...
Animal Poems
The Bluebird, by Edna Dean Proctor
I am so blithe and glad today!
At morn I heard...
Indian Summer, by Edna Dean Proctor
'Tis Indian Summer's richest, latest day;
Th...
In Dreams, by Edna Dean Proctor
My love, my love, when falls the summer rain
...
The Mississippi, by Edna Dean Proctor
Down the silent Mississippi, with his saintly ...
The Tryst by the Grand Canyon, by Edna Dean Proctor
A realm of dreams is that sublimest chasm
Clef...
Alms, by Edna St. Vincent Millay
My heart is what it was before,
A house where...
Ashes of Life, by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Love has gone and left me and the days are all ...
Doubt No More that Oberon, by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Doubt no more that Oberon--
Never doub that Pa...
Elegy, by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Let them bury your big eyes
In the secret eart...
Elegy Before Death, by Edna St. Vincent Millay
There will be rose and rhododendron
When you a...
Four Sonnets, by Edna St. Vincent Millay
I Love, though for this you riddle me with da...
God's World, by Edna St. Vincent Millay
O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
Thy...
Mariposa, by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Butterflies are white and blue
In this field w...
Passer Mortuus Est, by Edna St. Vincent Millay
DEATH devours all lovely things;
Lesbia with ...
Pastoral, by Edna St. Vincent Millay
If it were only still!--
With far away the shr...
The Poet and His Book, by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Down, you mongrel, Death!
Back into your ken...
The Singingwoman from the Wood's Edge, by Edna St. Vincent Millay
What should I be but a prophet and a liar,
Wh...
Song of a Second April, by Edna St. Vincent Millay
APRIL this year, not otherwise
Than April of ...
The Suicide, by Edna St. Vincent Millay
"Curse thee, Life, I will live with thee no m...
Three Songs of Shattering, by Edna St. Vincent Millay
I The first rose on my rose-tree
Budded, blo...
Weeds, by Edna St. Vincent Millay
White with daisies and red with sorrel
And emp...
The Jumblies, by Edward Lear
I THEY went to sea in a sieve, they did;
In...
The Golden Gate, by Edward Pollock
The air is chill, and the day grows late,
An...
An Arizona Cactus, by Edward Robeson Taylor
The burning sun has scorched the rainless groun...