The Roaring Days (Henry Lawson Poem)
The night too quickly passes And we are growing old, So let us fill our glasses And toast the Days ...
The night too quickly passes And we are growing old, So let us fill our glasses And toast the Days ...
When the sun shouts and people abound One thinks there were the ages of stone and the age of bronze ...
When the swans turned my sister into a swan I would go to the lake, at night, from milking: The ...
Nearly everyone had left that bar in the middle of winter except the hardcore.It was the coldest night of the ...
The forest bitter, spiky, no shore breeze, no foothills, the grass grows matted, death will come with horses' hooves, endlessly ...
LXI The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people, And there lie friends ...
My window shews the travelling clouds, Leaves spent, new seasons, alter'd sky, The making and the melting crowds: The whole ...
Is it worth while, dear, now, To call for bells, and sally forth arrayed For marriage-rites -- discussed, decried, delayed ...
That night your great guns, unawares, Shook all our coffins as we lay, And broke the chancel window-squares, We thought ...
The hunt begins at a languid pace belying hysteria building in place, biding its time to menace the peace in ...
Whangaehu waters, hot-spilled from the cauldron of Crater Lake, swirling mud-green from the cup between Tahurangi and Pyramid Peak, sulphurous, ...
O race that Cæsar knew, That won stern Roman praise, What land not envies you The laurel of these days? ...
AMONG the heathy hills and ragged woods The roaring Fyers pours his mossy floods; Till full he dashes on the ...
1 Faster, faster, 2 O Circe, Goddess, 3 Let the wild, thronging train 4 The bright procession 5 Of eddying ...
The Youth Faster, faster, O Circe, Goddess, Let the wild, thronging train The bright procession Of eddying forms, Sweep through ...
Girls buck the wind in the grooves toward work in fuzzy coats promised to be warm as fur. The shop ...
My most respected comrades of posterity! Rummaging among these days' petrified crap, exploring the twilight of our times, you, possibly, ...
'Ye have robb'd,' said he, 'ye have slaughter'd and made an end, Take your ill-got plunder, and bury the dead: ...
Two Workmen were carrying a sheet of asbestos down the main street of Dingle; it must have been nailed, at ...
O Pride of the days in prime of the months Now trebled in great renown, When before the ark of ...
Her tawny eyes are onyx of thoughtlessness, Hardened they are like gems in ancient modesty; Yea, and her mouth's prudent ...
In Lake Forest, a suburb of Chicago, a woman sits at her desk to write me a letter. She holds ...
Inscribed to the Memory of John Keats. Dear uplands, Chester's favorable fields, My large unjealous Loves, many yet one -- ...
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