
Patterns By Amy Lowell - Giggle Poems
I walk down the garden paths, And all the daffodils Are blowing, and the bright blue squills. I walk down the patterned garden paths In my stiff, broc ...
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I walk down the garden paths, And all the daffodils Are blowing, and the bright blue squills. I walk down the patterned garden paths In my stiff, broc ...
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The west wind has lifted a scarf On the seat close beside me; the blue of it is a violent outrage of colour. Her kisses are sharp buds of fire; and I ...
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When I go away from you The world beats dead Like a slackened drum. I call out for you against the jutted stars And shout into the ridges of the wind. ...
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Gushing from the mouths of stone men To spread at ease under the sky In granite-lipped basins, Where iris dabble their feet And rustle to a passing wi ...
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Everyone at Lake Kearney had a nickname: there was a Bumstead, a Tonto, a Tex, and, from the slogan of a popular orchestra, two sisters, Swing and Swa ...
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I imagine her hair would fall about her face and she would become apparently downcast, as she does at a concert when she is moved. The hypnopompic pla ...
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I have carried my pillow to the windowsill And try to sleep, with my damp arms crossed upon it, But no breeze stirs the tepid morning. I kneel by the ...
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But what if I tore you apart for those afternoons when I was fifteen and so like a bird of paradise slaughtered for its feathers. The three of us blen ...
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