Blog Literature Poetry

Any Woman by Katharine Tynan

I am the pillars of the house; The keystone of the arch am I. Take me away, and roof and wall Would fall to ruin...

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The Sick Man and the Nightingale by Amy Levy

(From Lenau.) So late, and yet a nightingale? Long since have dropp’d the blossoms pale, The summer fields are rip...

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The Village Garden by Amy Levy

To E.M.S. Here, where your garden fenced about and still is, Here, where the unmoved summer air is sweet With mixed deli...

Blog Literature Poetry

To a Dead Poet by Amy Levy

I knew not if to laugh or weep; They sat and talked of you– “‘Twas here he sat; ’twas this he sa...

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To Clementina Black by Amy Levy

More blest than was of old Diogenes, I have not held my lantern up in vain. Not mine, at least, this evil–to compl...

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To Death by Amy Levy

(From Lenau.) If within my heart there’s mould, If the flame of Poesy And the flame of Love grow cold, Slay my bod...