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All ye good people, afar and near,To my request pray lend an ear;I advise you all without delay to goAnd see the Fair Maid's House - it is a rare show. Some of the chairs there are very grand,Th
The door is shut. She leaves the curtained office,And down the grey-walled stairs comes trembling slowlyTowards the dazzling street.Her withered hand clings tightly to the railing.The long stairs
Over the darkened city, the city of towers,The city of a thousand gates,Over the gleaming terraced roofs, the huddled towers,Over a somnolent whisper of loves and hates,The slow wind flows, dreari
Midnight; bells toll, and along the cloud-high towersThe golden lights go out . . .The yellow windows darken, the shades are drawn,In thousands of rooms we sleep, we await the dawn,We lie face dow
You see that porcelain ranged there in the window—Platters and soup-plates done with pale pink rosebuds,And tiny violets, and wreaths of ivy?See how the pattern clings to the gleaming edges!They
More towers must yet be built—more towers destroyed—Great rocks hoisted in air;And he must seek his bread in high pale sunlightWith gulls about him, and clouds just over his eyes . . .And so h
The days, the nights, flow one by one above us, The hours go silently over our lifted faces, We are like dreamers who walk beneath a sea. Beneath high walls we flow in the sun together. We sleep,
This is the house. On one side there is darkness,On one side there is light.Into the darkness you may lift your lanterns—O, any number—it will still be night.And here are echoing stairs to le
The cigarette-smoke loops and slides above us,Dipping and swirling as the waiter passes;You strike a match and stare upon the flame.The tiny fire leaps in your eyes a moment,And dwindles away as s
I love to go to Grampa's house.He lives far, far away.It's hard to sit still in the carand it takes us two whole days.My Grampa's fun is different.He doesn't run and play.But grampa's fun is sp
The warm sun dreams in the dust, the warm sun fallsOn bright red roofs and walls;The trees in the park exhale a ghost of rain;We go from door to door in the streets again,Talking, laughing, dreami
After you’ve negotiated that artfully-conceivedsharp elbow bend in the long, grand drivethrough the fields of its estate, and it hoves into view, you always gasp – this palace - no, more like