Youth and Art, by Robert Browning
It once might have been, once only:
We lodge...
Bird Poems
Elegy on Lesbia's Sparrow, by Catullus
Loves and Graces mourn with me,
Mourn, fair ...
April, by Amy Lowell
A bird chirped at my window this morning,
And...
Azure and Gold, by Amy Lowell
April had covered the hills
With flickering ye...
The Cremona Violin, by Amy Lowell
Part First Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut t...
The Hammers, by Amy Lowell
I Frindsbury, Kent, 1786 Bang!
Bang!
Tap!...
The Road to Avignon, by Amy Lowell
A Minstrel stands on a marble stair,
Blown by...
A Roxbury Garden, by Amy Lowell
I Hoops Blue and pink sashes,
Criss-cross s...
Suggested by the Cover of a Volume of Keats's Poems, by Amy Lowell
Wild little bird, who chose thee for a sign
T...
The Way, by Amy Lowell
At first a mere thread of a footpath half blott...
Evening, by Sappho
Children astray to their mothers, and goats to...
Hesperus the Bringer, by Sappho
O Hesperus, thou bringest all good things--
H...
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 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...
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...
Under the Palms, by Aleister Crowley
The woodland hollows know us, bird-enchanted, ...
Comfort, by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
SPEAK low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet
F...
Irreparableness, by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I HAVE been in the meadows all the day
And gat...
The Blind Highland Boy, by William Wordsworth
Now we are tired of boisterous joy,
Have romp...
The Danish Boy, by William Wordsworth
I Between two sister moorland rills
There is...
Elegiac Verses, by William Wordsworth
In Memory of My Brother, John Wordsworth, Com...
An Evening Walk, by William Wordsworth
Far from my dearest Friend, 'tis mine to rove
...