Hurt Hawks (Robinson Jeffers Poem)
I The broken pillar of the wing jags from the clotted shoulder, The wing trails like a banner in defeat, ...
I The broken pillar of the wing jags from the clotted shoulder, The wing trails like a banner in defeat, ...
Foundered March 24. 1878 1 The Eurydice-it concerned thee, O Lord: Three hundred souls, O alas! on board, Some asleep ...
WHEN Venus and Hypocrisy combine, Oft pranks are played that show a deep design; Men are but men, and friars ...
A wind's word, the Hebrew Hallelujah. I wonder they never gave it to a boy (Hal for short) boy with ...
The brain - the brush here celebrate that long red stain seeping the universe . Was not the chink of ...
I had no profound feelings of shock or surprise to those matter-of-fact revelations which spelled the end of this chapter ...
WHEN that Aprilis, with his showers swoot*, *sweet The drought of March hath pierced to the root, And bathed every ...
Its mother being tethered near it Poor little Foal of an oppress?d race! I love the languid patience of thy ...
There was a man in New York City (His name was George Adolphus Knight) So soft of heart he wept ...
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away; Lengthen night and shorten day; Every leaf speaks bliss to me Fluttering from the ...
1 Sometime now past in the Autumnal Tide, 2 When Ph{oe}bus wanted but one hour to bed, 3 The trees ...
'Twas after dread Pultowa's day, When fortune left the royal Swede - Around a slaughtered army lay, No more to ...
A new song to the Lamb that was slain. Rev. 5:6-12 Behold the glories of the Lamb Amidst his Father's ...
Now Night came down, and rose full soon That patroness of rogues, the Moon; Beneath whose kind protecting ray, Wolves, ...
Scene, on the Cliffs to the Eastward of the Town of Brighthelmstone in Sussex. Time, a Morning in November, 1792. ...
I'd hate to be centipede (of legs I've only two), For if new trousers I should need (as oftentimes I ...
Now Serena be not coy, Since we freely may enjoy Sweet embraces, such delights, As will shorten tedious nights. Think ...
BEAUTY, the attribute of Heaven! In various forms to mortals given, With magic skill enslaves mankind, As sportive fancy sways ...
My dear Antenor now give o're, For my sake talk of Graves no more; Death is not in our power ...
Not solely that the Future she destroys, And the fair life which in the distance lies For all men, beckoning ...
[The late Mr. Jonathan Swift Somers, laureate of Spoon River, planned The Spooniad as an epic in twenty-four books, but ...
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