by Judith Wright Australian poet The rows of cells are unroofed, a flute for the wind’s mouth, who comes with a breath of ice from the blue caves of the south. O dark and fierce day: the wind like an angry bee hunts for the black honey in the pits of the hollow sea. WavesContinue reading “The Old Prison”
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A Beautiful Young Nymph Going To Bed
by Jonathan Swift Corinna, Pride of Drury-Lane, For whom no Shepherd sighs in vain; Never did Covent Garden boast So bright a batter’d, strolling Toast; No drunken Rake to pick her up, No Cellar where on Tick to sup; Returning at the Midnight Hour; Four Stories climbing to her Bow’r; Then, seated on a three-legg’dContinue reading “A Beautiful Young Nymph Going To Bed”
Robin's Nest 