Before she left for college,we played stripped Twisteron sweaty summer nightsthat set the forest ablaze. I tucked her dark bangs,kissed her olive neck.She squirmed when I tickled her.I'd call her name and throwa pillow at her head.Her eyes sought to bury me alive—then she'd smile. She batted her lashesand told me she'd attend NYU. "Leaving" spilled through the … [Read more...] about Delightful Drought, By: Andrew Cyr
The Dunolly Eagle, By: William Wordsworth
Not to the clouds, not to the cliff, he flew;But when a storm, on sea or mountain bred,Came and delivered him, alone he spedInto the castle-dungeon's darkest mew.Now, near his master's house in open viewHe dwells, and hears indignant tempests howl,Kenneled and chained. Ye tame domestic fowl,Beware of him! Thou, saucy cockatoo,Look to thy plumage and thy life! The roe,Fleet as … [Read more...] about The Dunolly Eagle, By: William Wordsworth
The Danish Boy, A Fragment, By: William Wordsworth
IBetween two sister moorland rillsThere is a spot that seems to lieSacred to flowerets of the hills,And sacred to the sky.And in this smooth and open dellThere is a tempest-stricken tree;A corner-stone by lightning cut,The last stone of a lonely hut;And in this dell you seeA thing no storm can e'er destroy,The shadow of a Danish Boy.IIIn clouds above, the lark is heard,But … [Read more...] about The Danish Boy, A Fragment, By: William Wordsworth
The Cuckoo-Clock, By: William Wordsworth
Wouldst thou be taught, when sleep has taken flight, By a sure voice that can most sweetly tell, How far off yet a glimpse of morning light, And if to lure the truant back be well, Forbear to covet a Repeater's stroke, That, answering to thy touch, will sound the hour; Better provide thee with a Cuckoo-clock For service hung behind thy chamber-door; And … [Read more...] about The Cuckoo-Clock, By: William Wordsworth
The Cuckoo And The Nightingale (From Chaucer), By: William Wordsworth
The God of Love--ah, benedicite! How mighty and how great a Lord is he! For he of low hearts can make high, of high He can make low, and unto death bring nigh; And hard hearts he can make them kind and free. Within a little time, as hath been found, He can make sick folk whole and fresh and sound: Them who are whole in body and in mind, He can make sick,--bind can he and … [Read more...] about The Cuckoo And The Nightingale (From Chaucer), By: William Wordsworth