I Shall Forget You Presently (by: Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892 - 1950)) I shall forget you presently, my dear, So make the most of this, your little day, Your little month, your little half a year, Ere I forget, or die, or move away... continue reading
My Lady's Grave (by: Emily Bronte (1818 - 1848)) The linnet in the rocky dells, The moor-lark in the air, The bee among the heather bells That hide my lady fair: continue reading
Scent Of Irises (by: D.H. Lawrence (1885 - 1930)) A faint, sickening scent of irises Persists all morning. Here in a jar on the table A fine proud spike of purple irises... continue reading
Triumph of Death, The (by: William Shakespeare (1546 - 1616)) No longer mourn for me when I am dead Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell continue reading
Why I Write Not Of Love (by: Benjamin Jonson (1573 - 1637)) Some act of Love's bound to rehearse, I thought to bind him in my verse; Which when he felt, Away, quoth he, Can poets hope to fetter me? continue reading
Winter's Tale, A (by: D.H. Lawrence (1885 - 1930)) Yesterday the fields were only grey with scattered snow, And now the longest grass-leaves hardly emerge; Yet her deep footsteps mark the snow, and go On towards the pines at the hills’ white verge. continue reading
