Her mind lives in a quiet room,
A narrow room and tall.
With pretty lamps to quench the gloom,
And mottoes on the wall.
There all the things are waxen neat,
And set in decorous lines.
And there are posies, round and sweet,
And little straightened vines.
Her mind lives tidily apart,
From cold and noise and pain.
And bolts the door against her heart,
Out wailing in the rain.
Tompkins fledgling frolicks on a fire escape, then returns to nest tree - The younger of the two Tompkins Square Park hawklets fledged the nest at 2:02pm on Friday, July 13. It spent the night on a fire escape on E 8th Street and...
2 days ago