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Amy Lowell: Madonna of the Evening Flowers

Madonna of the Evening FlowersAmy LowellAll day long I have been working, Now I am tired. I call: "Where are you?" But there is only the oak tree rustling in the wind. The house is very…

Walt Whitman: The City Dead-House

The City Dead-HouseBy the city dead-house by the gate, As idly sauntering wending my way from the clangor, I curious pause, for lo, an outcast form, a poor dead prostitute brought, Her corpse…

Ralph Waldo Emerson: A Letter

A LetterDear brother, would you know the life, Please God, that I would lead? On the first wheels that quit this weary town Over yon western bridges I would ride And with a cheerful benison…

Amy Lowell: The Way

The WayAt first a mere thread of a footpath half blotted out by the grasses Sweeping triumphant across it, it wound between hedges of roses Whose blossoms were poised above leaves as pond…

Walt Whitman: Leaves of Grass, Mannahatta

MannahattaI was asking for something specific and perfect for my city, Whereupon lo! upsprang the aboriginal name.Now I see what there is in a name, a word, liquid, sane, unruly, musical…

Amy Lowell: J—K. Huysmans

J—K. HuysmansA flickering glimmer through a window-pane, A dim red glare through mud bespattered glass, Cleaving a path between blown walls of sleet Across uneven pavements sunk in slime To…