An Ode To Antares (Alan Seeger Poems)
At dusk, when lowlands where dark waters glide Robe in gray mist, and through the greening hills The hoot-owl calls ...
At dusk, when lowlands where dark waters glide Robe in gray mist, and through the greening hills The hoot-owl calls ...
LAST night, among his fellow roughs,He jested, quaff'd, and swore; A drunken private of the Buffs,Who never look'd before. To-day, ...
I Will pluck from my tree a cherry-blossom wand,And carry it in my merciless hand,So I will drive you, so ...
At dusk, when lowlands where dark waters glide Robe in gray mist, and through the greening hills The hoot-owl calls ...
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