Beg-Innish (John Millington Synge Poems)
Bring Kateen-beug and Maurya JudeTo dance in Beg-Innish,And when the lads (they're in Dunquin)Have sold their crabs and fish,Wave fawny ...
Bring Kateen-beug and Maurya JudeTo dance in Beg-Innish,And when the lads (they're in Dunquin)Have sold their crabs and fish,Wave fawny ...
Warp and Woof and Tangle,-- _Weavers of Webs are we_.Living and dying--and mightier dead,For the shuttle, once sped, is sped--is sped;-- _Weavers ...
Ye Weavers of Blackburn, give ear to my song,When I sing of tyrants I seldom do wrong,For if they transport ...
LOUHI STEALS SUN, MOON, AND FIRE.Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,Touched again his magic harp-strings,Sang in miracles of concord,Filled the north with joy ...
Forever fair, forever calm and bright,Life flies on plumage, zephyr-light, For those who on the Olympian hill rejoice—Moons wane, and ...
The night had sunk along the city, It was a bleak and cheerless hour;The wild-winds sung their solemn ditty ...
Aye, snows are rife in December, And sheaves are in August yet,And you would have me remember, And I would ...
With sagest craft Arachne workedHer web, and at a corner lurked,Awaiting what should plump her soon,To case it in the ...
The great and the little weavers, They neither rest nor sleep. They work in the height and the glory, They toil in the dark and the deep. The rainbow melts with the shower, The white-thorn falls in the gust, The cloud-rose dies into shadow, The earth-rose dies into dust. But they have not faded forever, They have not flowered in vain, For the great and the little weavers Are weaving under the rain. Recede the drums of the thunder When the Titan chorus tires, And the bird-song piercing the sunset Faints with the sunset fires, But the trump of the storm shall fail not, Nor the flute-cry fail of the thrush, For the great and the little weavers Are weaving under the hush. The comet flares into darkness, The flame dissolves into death, The power of the star and the dew They glow and are gone like a breath, But ere the old wonder is done Is the new-old wonder begun, For the great and the little weavers Are weaving under the sun. The domes of an empire crumble, A child's hope dies in tears; Time rolls them away forgotten In the silt of the flooding years; The creed for which men died smiling Decays to a beldame's curse; The love that made lips immortal Drags by in a tattered hearse. But not till the search of the moon Sees the last white face uplift, And over the bones of the kindreds The bare sands dredge and drift, Shall Love forget to return And lift the unused latch, (In his eyes the look of the traveller, On his lips the foreign catch), Nor the mad song leave men cold, Nor the high dream summon in vain, — For the great and the little weavers Are weaving in heart and brain.(Charles G. D. Roberts)
COLD philosophers, so aptWith your formulas exacting,In your problems so enwrapt,And your theories distracting;Webs of metaphysic doubtOn your wheels forever ...
Garden of Shushan!After Eden, all terrace, pool, and flower recollect thee:Ye weavers in saffron and haze and Tyrian purple,Tell yet ...
_Xochiquetzal icuic._ 1. Atlayauican ni xochiquetzalli tlacya niuitza ya motencaliuantamoanchan oay. 2. Ye quitichocaya tlamacazecatla piltzintecutlo quiyatemoaya yexochinquetzalla xoyauia ay ...
Archaeologists have discovered a love-letter among the ruins of Babylon. -- Newspaper report.The world hath just one tale to tell, ...
In the market-place of Bruges stands the belfry old and brown; Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded, still it watches o'er ...
to the memory of my friend SI-YA-U, whose head was cut off in Shanghai A CLAIM Renowned Leonardo's world-famous "La ...
And a merchant said, "Speak to us of Buying and Selling." And he answered and said: To you the earth ...
for Brenda Williams The dawn cracked with ice, with fire grumbling in the grate, With ire in the homes we ...
Forever fair, forever calm and bright, Life flies on plumage, zephyr-light, For those who on the Olympian hill rejoice-- Moons ...
The back, the yoke, the yardage. Lapped seams, The nearly invisible stitches along the collar Turned in a sweatshop by ...
WEAVERS, weaving at break of day, Why do you weave a garment so gay? . . . Blue as the ...
How can you, my Lord, thus delight to torment all The Peers of realm about cheapening their corn, When you ...
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