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Слушать(AI)The Garden
Hiding under the hill,
Heavy with trailing robes and tangled veils of green,
Till only its little haggard face was visible,
The garden lay shy and wistful,
Lovelorn for summer departing,
Blowing its little trickling fountain tune into the air.
And over all, hushing, soothing,
Lay the
Like early snow.
Harriet Monroe
Harriet Monroe (December 23, 1860 – September 26, 1936) was an American editor, scholar, literary critic, poet, and patron of the arts. She was
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March
I See the snow-drops flutter Their white wings in the gale I hear the robin utter On high his gallant tale Look where the rash wind chases With clouds the climbing sun The day makes merry faces— Gaily her gray steeds run
The Blue Ridge
LL and calm, In purple robes of kings, The low-lying mountains sleep at the edge of the world The forests cover them like mantles;
Two Capitals—1910
White Moscow of the pearly towers, And golden domes for praise, And chiming hours Red Moscow of the Kremlin walls,
On The Train
I HE lady in front of me in the car, With little red coils close over her ears, Is talking with her friend;
