Andrea del Sarto (Robert Browning Poem)
But do not let us quarrel any more, No, my Lucrezia; bear with me for once: Sit down and all ...
But do not let us quarrel any more, No, my Lucrezia; bear with me for once: Sit down and all ...
"Thou thoughtest that I was altogether such a one as thyself." (David, Psalms 50.21) ['Will sprawl, now that the heat ...
NO more wine? then we'll push back chairs and talk. A final glass for me, though: cool, i' faith! We ...
Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was ...
I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; "Good speed!" cried ...
A Child's Story Hamelin Town's in Brunswick, By famous Hanover city; The river Weser, deep and wide, Washes its wall ...
The rain set early in tonight, The sullen wind was soon awake, It tore the elm-tops down for spite, And ...
That's my last duchess painted on the wall, Looking as if she were alive. I call That piece a wonder, ...
I My love, this is the bitterest, that thou Who art all truth and who dost love me now As ...
HOW wisdom and Folly meet, mix, and unite, How Virtue and Vice blend their black and their white, How Genius, ...
starving there, sitting around the bars, and at night walking the streets for hours, the moonlight always seemed fake to ...
George was lying in his trailer, flat on his back, watching a small portable T.V. His dinner dishes were undone, ...
Half squatter, half tenant (no rent)- a sort of inheritance; white, in your thirties now, and supposed to supply me ...
On the fair green hills of Rio There grows a fearful stain: The poor who come to Rio And can't ...
at seventeen was i, so old so young. and it was there i first met war. i saw their broken ...
'This envelope you say has something in it Which once belonged to your dead son-or something He knew, was fond ...
You read-what is it, then that you are reading? What music moves so silently in your mind? Your bright hand ...
This is the house. On one side there is darkness, On one side there is light. Into the darkness you ...
THE HOUSE OF DUST A Symphony BY CONRAD AIKEN To Jessie NOTE . . . Parts of this poem have ...
Fanfare of northwest wind, a bluejay wind announces autumn, and the equinox rolls back blue bays to a far afternoon. ...
Florida An Airedale rolling through green frost, cabbage palms pointing their accusing leaves at whom, petulant waves breaking at my ...
Long ago in a poultry yard One dull November morn, Beneath a motherly soft wing A little goose was born. ...
Lo giorno se n'andava, e l'aere bruno toglieva li animai che sono in terra da le fatiche loro; e io ...
Not under foreign skies Nor under foreign wings protected - I shared all this with my own people There, where ...
Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill; Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes! No longer leave thy ...
I'm thinking about you. What else can I say? The palm trees on the reverse are a delusion; so is ...
FROM those drear solitudes and frowsy cells, Where Infamy with sad Repentance dwells; Where turnkeys make the jealous portal fast, ...
ONE Queen Artemisia, as old stories tell, When deprived of her husband she loved so well, In respect for the ...
RecitativoWHEN lyart leaves bestrow the yird, Or wavering like the bauckie-bird, Bedim cauld Boreas' blast; When hailstanes drive wi' bitter ...
UPON that night, when fairies light On Cassilis Downans 2 dance, Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze, On sprightly ...
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