Winter Night, A (by: Sara Teasdale (1884 - 1933)) My window-pane is starred with frost, The world is bitter cold to-night... continue reading
Written In Northampton Assylum (by: John Clare (1793 - 1864)) I am! yet what I am who cares, or knows? My friends forsake me like a memory lost. I am the self-consumer of my woes; They rise and vanish, an oblivious host, Shadows of life, whose very soul is lost. And yet I am—I live—though I am toss'd continue reading
