Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal, Now the White, by Alfred Tennyson
Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white; ...
Lily Poems
Bifurcation, by Robert Browning
WE were two lovers; let me lie by her,
My tom...
Rabbi Ben Ezra, by Robert Browning
Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be,...
Episode in Grey, by Conrad Aiken
I So, to begin with, dust blows down the str...
Bright Sunlight, by Amy Lowell
The wind has blown a corner of your shawl
Into...
The Captured Goddess, by Amy Lowell
Over the housetops,
Above the rotating chimne...
Clear, with Light, Variable Winds, by Amy Lowell
The fountain bent and straightened itself
In t...
The Cremona Violin, by Amy Lowell
Part First Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut t...
The Foreigner, by Amy Lowell
Have at you, you Devils!
My back's to this tr...
The Hammers, by Amy Lowell
I Frindsbury, Kent, 1786 Bang!
Bang!
Tap!...
The Matrix, by Amy Lowell
Goaded and harassed in the factory
That tears ...
The Red Lacquer Music-Stand, by Amy Lowell
A music-stand of crimson lacquer, long since b...
Sword Blades and Poppy Seed, by Amy Lowell
A drifting, April, twilight sky,
A wind whi...
Sappho to Her Girlfriends, by Sappho
Fragments 34, 77, 76, 61, 71, 48, 86, 83...
An Evening Walk, by William Wordsworth
Far from my dearest Friend, 'tis mine to rove
...
Vaudracour and Julia, by William Wordsworth
O happy time of youthful lovers (thus
My story...
Hudson River, by Evelyn Scott
The thin hill pushes against the mist.
Its fad...
Ophelia, by Arthur Rimbaud
I
On the calm black water where the stars ar...
Fiesole Idyl, by Walter Savage Landor
Here, where precipitate Spring, with one ligh...
The Book of Thel, by William Blake
I The daughters of Mne Seraphim led round thei...
The Lily, by William Blake
The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,
The humbl...
Maid of Wu, by Li Bai
Wine of the grapes,
Goblets of gold--
And a ...
The Easter Flower, by Claude McKay
Far from this foreign Easter damp and chilly
M...
A Red Flower, by Claude McKay
Your lips are like a southern lily red,
Wet w...
By the Yawning Door, by Francis Jammes
By the yawning door, thick and studded and pai...