Reality (Archibald Lampman Poems)
I stand at noon upon the heated flags At the bleached crossing of two streets, and dream ...
I stand at noon upon the heated flags At the bleached crossing of two streets, and dream ...
The hunch?d camels of the nightTrouble the bright And silver waters of the moon. The Maiden of the Morn will ...
I see thee better-in the Dark-I do not need a Light-The Love of Thee-a Prism be-Excelling Violet-I see thee better ...
570I could die-to know-'Tis a trifling knowledge-News-Boys salute the Door-Carts-joggle by-Morning's bold face-stares in the window-Were but mine-the Charter of ...
The rain and the wind, the wind and the rain -- They are with us like a disease: They worry ...
I love all sights of earth and skies, From flowers that glow to stars that shine; The comet and the ...
Train. Distant Train. Praise the glorious distance of Train. Dogs bark, reply to the mournful echo of Train's whistle. Train ...
A bit of war poetry read by featured poets Brought it back to me that night on the floor Each ...
In England once there lived a big And wonderfully clever pig. To everybody it was plain That Piggy had a ...
I could die -- to know -- 'Tis a trifling knowledge -- News-Boys salute the Door -- Carts -- joggle ...
I see thee better -- in the Dark -- I do not need a Light -- The Love of Thee ...
Whangaehu waters, hot-spilled from the cauldron of Crater Lake, swirling mud-green from the cup between Tahurangi and Pyramid Peak, sulphurous, ...
Does your semen smell like camembert? It's just a thought I had today at lunch, I must have had the ...
I was but what you'd brush with your palm, what your leaning brow would hunch to in evening's raven-black hush. ...
Bring me to the blasted oak That I, midnight upon the stroke, (All find safety in the tomb.) May call ...
It was Karl Shapiro who wrote in his 'Defence of Ignorance' how many poets Go mad or seem to be ...
I There was Claw-fingered Kitty and Windy Ike living the life of shame, When unto them in the Long, Long ...
Hark to the Sourdough story, told at sixty below, When the pipes are lit and we smoke and spit Into ...
I strolled up old Bonanza, where I staked in ninety-eight, A-purpose to revisit the old claim. I kept thinking mighty ...
Among orange-tile rooftops and chimney pots the fen fog slips, gray as rats, while on spotted branch of the sycamore ...
After the red leaf and the gold have gone, Brought down by the wind, then by hammering rain Bruised and ...
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