1 min read
Слушать(AI)Mountain Song
I have not where to lay my head:
Upon my breast no child shall lie;
For me no marriage feast is spread:
I walk alone under the sky.
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
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
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;
New-Born
She is so wee, So wise and dear Her eyes can see, Her ears can hear, The flowers that grow Below the snow,
The Mockery
Sometimes I laugh—what else can a man do Who does not know This little ego here Braving the void, this fleck upon the blue, This filmy wing sounding the starry sphere— What bold abysmal incongruity, What joke of the gods to make a m...
The Childless Woman
O Mother of that heap of clay, so passive on your breast, Now do you stare at death, woman, who yesterday were blest Now do you long to fare afar, and guide him on the Where he must wander all alone, his little feet astray