wordhoard

Carl Holsøe Supper Being Ended In the quiet place at close of day he washes the feet of my mind from the dust of its fret. ...

Unknown Hour Love's time's beggar, but even a single hour, bright as a dropped coin, makes love rich. We find an hour...

Carl Larsson This is the Garden this is the garden: colours come and go, frail azures fluttering from night's outer wing s...

beccastadtlander Arrhythmia The heart of a bear is a cloud-shuttered mountain. The heart of a mountain’s a kiln. The white he...

Kathleen Lindsley, "Lean-To Swallows" The Swallow Pretty swallow, once again Come and pass me in the rain. Prett...

Dorothy McEntee, "Tabby" Pax All that matters is to be at one with the living God To be a creature in the house of the Go...

Siemen Dijkstra, "Last Sunlight" Reeds The blades sway. They ride Unbleached, tugged in their full sap By the slow c...