The Sun in Poetry
Swallows They dip their wings in the sunset, They dash against the air As if to break themselves upon its stillness: In every movement, too swift to count, Is a […]
Swallows They dip their wings in the sunset, They dash against the air As if to break themselves upon its stillness: In every movement, too swift to count, Is a […]
Still Life Cool your heels on the rail of an observation car. Let the engineer open her up for ninety miles an hour. Take in the prairie right and left,
My Mistress’ Eyes are Nothing Like the Sun (Sonnet 130) My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips’ red; If snow be