by David St. John It was there， in that little town On top of the mountain， they walked， Francesco and Chiara， That's who they were， that's wh...
by Frank Stanford They caught them. They were sitting at a table in the kitchen. It was early. They had on bathrobes. They were drinking coffee and sm...
by C. K. Williams The first morning of Three Mile Island： those first disquieting， uncertain， mystifying hours. All morning a crew of workmen have bee...
by Lorna Dee Cervantes Las casitas near the gray cannery， nestled amid wild abrazos of climbing roses and man-high red geraniums are gone now. The fre...
by Charles Reznikoff Not because of victories I sing， having none， but for the common sunshine， the breeze， the largess of the spring. Not for victory...
by Louise Bogan All night the cocks crew， under a moon like day， And I， in the cage of sleep， on a stranger's breast， Shed tears， like a task not ...
by Joanie Mackowski Two wandering across the porcelain Siberia， one alone on the window sill， four across the ceiling's senseless field of pale ye...
by Lord Alfred Tennyson Tears， idle tears， I know not what they mean， Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart， and gather to the...
by George Gordon， Lord Byron I stood in Venice， on the Bridge of Sighs， A palace and a prison on each hand： I saw from out the wave her structures ris...
by Robert Penn Warren [ A ] Long ago， in Kentucky， I， a boy， stood By a dirt road， in first dark， and heard The great geese hoot northward. I could no...