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O Thou Almighty Will, by King Robert of France // (c. 1000 A.D.) O thou almighty Will Faint are thy children, till Thou come with power: Strength of our good intents, In our frail home, Defense,…

O Thou Almighty Will, by King Robert of France // (c. 1000 A.D.) O thou almighty Will Faint are thy children, till Thou come with power: Strength of our good intents, In our frail home, Defense,…

Snowfall, by Sarah Arthur // When the snow falls it falls like death in slow layers and keeps falling till nothing we have known is known. We stand silent in the woods awaiting the wide white twilight. They say when you die of…

Snowfall, by Sarah Arthur // When the snow falls it falls like death in slow layers and keeps falling till nothing we have known is known. We stand silent in the woods awaiting the wide white twilight. They say when you die of…

Family Bible by Robert Morgan | The leather of the book is soft and black as that of Grandma’s purse, brought west by horse and wagon, kept on mantel shelf and closet plank. The red dye on the edge has faded. The marriages …

Family Bible by Robert Morgan | The leather of the book is soft and black as that of Grandma’s purse, brought west by horse and wagon, kept on mantel shelf and closet plank. The red dye on the edge has faded. The marriages …

Shakespeare and Company, Paris

Shakespeare and Company, Paris

The Dry Salvages, by T. S. Eliot // No. 3 of “Four Quartets” (The Dry Salvages—presumably les trois sauvages—is a small group of rocks, with a beacon, off the N.E. coast of Cape Ann, Massachusetts. Salvages is pronounced …

The Dry Salvages, by T. S. Eliot // No. 3 of “Four Quartets” (The Dry Salvages—presumably les trois sauvages—is a small group of rocks, with a beacon, off the N.E. coast of Cape Ann, Massachusetts. Salvages is pronounced …

My Silence Is The Lord, by Paul Quenon | My silence is the Lord, I listen, his silence speaks at all time. When I listen not, my hearing is filled with words and my tongue takes to rambling. My resting place is the Lord a hideaway on a mo…

My Silence Is The Lord, by Paul Quenon | My silence is the Lord, I listen, his silence speaks at all time. When I listen not, my hearing is filled with words and my tongue takes to rambling. My resting place is the Lord a hideaway on a mo…

POETRY: Starting Over, by Mary F. C. Pratt | —and do you remember the night the long rain stopped? We woke to silence, and moonlight through the high window. No sound but the animals breathing in their sleep— —and the owls— It was so hard to …

POETRY: Starting Over, by Mary F. C. Pratt | —and do you remember the night the long rain stopped? We woke to silence, and moonlight through the high window. No sound but the animals breathing in their sleep— —and the owls— It was so hard to …

Tired of cold and snow? These poems capture the raw beauty of winter and the hidden promise of spring.

Winter Poems

Tired of cold and snow? These poems capture the raw beauty of winter and the hidden promise of spring.

Cemetery, by Benjamin Alire Saenz // I walk these grassless grounds Cracked, withering in weeds. My eyes move From one monument to the next: a star For the hour of their births, a cross For the hour of their deaths. Grave after Grave,…

Cemetery, by Benjamin Alire Saenz // I walk these grassless grounds Cracked, withering in weeds. My eyes move From one monument to the next: a star For the hour of their births, a cross For the hour of their deaths. Grave after Grave,…

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