The Martyrs
The sexes walking, now separate and sore,
poetry
The Innocents (E.M.)
Bloody, and stained, and with mothers' cries,
The Natural Mother
All the soft moon bends over,
Evening
he walked
Beaver Pond
Not furred nor wet, the pointing words yet make
Song for a Very New Witch
Out of this moment's burning
Tant que mes yeux pourront larmes espandre . . .
So long as eyes can weep, so long as thinking
Summer: Wish
To know loving you cool
Lucky Shot
The birds went capering away in crowds.
The Heart has no Generalities
See that star, Venus? It's
Pages
Current Issue: No. 301
