The Loved One
Cold clots will clog my heart some day
poetry
Until seventy times seven
Poor Peter!
Summer Campus
At the turn of each hour
Lyric
While the rite of day is unanulled
Leaves and the Wind
The wind that stirs the leaves is sharp and cold.
A legend of Angkor
The heathen kings, who built this city,
Lyric
Her face and honey-coloured hair
To a Coquette
Think not, my dear, to raise your price
W.B. Yeats
A year and years have gone
Scared
A great wind groand among the oaks
Pages
Current Issue: No. 302
