Edna Dean Proctor
Poems (4)
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From "The Song of the Ancient People"
We are the Ancient People; / Our father is the Sun; … -
Heaven, O Lord, I Cannot Lose
Now summer finds her perfect prime; / Sweet blows the wind from western calms; … -
Heroes
The Winds that once the Argo bore / Have died by Neptune’s ruined shrines, … -
The Brooklyn Bridge
A Granite cliff on either shore, / A highway poised in air; …