Twenty-twenty was a perfect year to do just that.” ...

I didn’t live through the Christmas of 1929, but growing up in Nogales, the border was always there—constant, imposing, ...

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vivacity of my last dinner party.

“That’s a smart pair of pumps you’re beading there. Who are they for?” “You mean?—oh, for some miss. I can’t keep track of other people’s daughters. Lord, if I were to dream of everyone “Two weeks ...

What a girl called "the dailiness of life" (Adding an errand to your errand. Saying, "Since you're up . . ." Making you a means to A means to a means to) is well water Pumped from an old well at the ...

In all these rotten shops, in all this broken furniture and wrinkled ties and baseball trophies and coffee pots I have never seen a post-war Philco with the automatic eye nor heard Ravel's "Bolero" ...

will have to be worn to a funeral. New York a bouillon, eroded filigree. Anything but illness, I beg the plagues, but shiny crows or nuclear rain. Not a drop in London May through June. I bask in the ...

Nightfall, that saw the morning-glories float Tendril and string against the crumbling wall, Nurses him now, his skeleton for grief, His locks for comfort curled among the leaf. Shuttles of moonlight ...

No more walks in the wood: The trees have all been cut Down, and where once they stood Not even a wagon rut Appears along the path Low brush is taking over. No more walks in the wood; This is the ...

arrive. The Ladies from the Ladies' Betterment League Arrive in the afternoon, the late light slanting In diluted gold bars across the boulevard brag Of proud, seamed faces with mercy and murder ...

Born in August 1591, Robert Herrick was the author of Hesperides; or, the Works Both Human and Divine of Robert Herrick, Esq.