Clik here to view.
Clik here to view.
Clik here to view.
Clik here to view.
Clik here to view.
Clik here to view.
Clik here to view.
Clik here to view.
Clik here to view.
Clik here to view.
Clik here to view.
Clik here to view.
Elinor Wylie: Beauty
Say not of beauty she is good, Or aught but beautiful, Or sleek to doves’ wings of the wood Her wild wings of a gull. Call her not wicked; that word’s touch Consumes her like a curse; But love her not...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Clik here to view.
Elinor Wylie: Silver Filigree
The icicles wreathing On trees in festoon Swing, swayed to our breathing: They’re made of the moon. She’s a pale, waxen taper; And these seem to drip Transparent as paper From the flame of her tip....
View ArticleClik here to view.
Clik here to view.
Eleanor Wylie: Venetian Interior
Allegra, rising from her canopied dreams, Slides both white feet across the slanted beams Which lace the peacock jalousies: behold An idol of fine clay, with feet of gold
View ArticleClik here to view.
Clik here to view.
Elinor Wylie: Phases of the Moon
Once upon a time I heard That the flying moon was a Phoenix bird; Thus she sails through windy skies, Thus in the willow’s arms she lies; Turn to the East or turn to the West In many trees she makes...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Clik here to view.
Antonia Y. Schwab: Danse Macabre
I see her dancing in the square At dusk beside the closed bazaars; Her veils twirl round while jasmine scent Pervades the breeze beneath the stars. She moves now past a trelissed stair As I in strange...
View Article