Nightfall, by George Sterling
Pure and argent, westward far,
Burns a solit...
Moth Poems
The Norman Baron, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
In his chamber, weak and dying,
Was the Norm...
Song of the Cricket, by Martha Lavinia Hoffman
When the Summer moonlight evening, weird, fan...
Song of the Easter Lilies, by Martha Lavinia Hoffman
The Lilies of Easter awake and sing,
They ris...
Atlas Moth, by Pascale Petit
From The Treekeper's Tale This giant atlas mot...
To----, by Percy Bysshe Shelley
One word is too often profaned
For me to profa...
Under the Sands, by Rosa Vertner Jeffrey
Suggested by a notice of Sir Douglas Forsyth's ...
The Desire of the Moth, by Rose Terry Cooke
Golden-colored miller,
Leave the lamp, and f...
Exogenesis, by Rose Terry Cooke
The curving beach and shining bay,
Stretch fr...
Monotropa, by Rose Terry Cooke
Loves serene, uncarnate Graces!
Born of pure ...
To a Stranger, by Ruth Thomas Pickering
I have seen you arise and go forth in the night...
The Song of Wandering Aengus, by William Butler Yeats
I went out to the hazel wood, Because a fire ...