The Scythians (Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok Poems)
You are but millions. Our unnumbered nationsAre as the sands upon the sounding shore.We are the Scythians! We are the ...
You are but millions. Our unnumbered nationsAre as the sands upon the sounding shore.We are the Scythians! We are the ...
John Brown and Jeanne at Fontainebleau- 'Twas Toussaint, just a year ago; Crimson and copper was the glow Of all ...
The world was widowed by the death of Christ:Vainly its suffering soul for peace has soughtAnd found it not.For nothing, ...
Ye are the Great White People, masters and lords of the earth,Spreading your stern dominion over the world's wide girth.Here, ...
They tell me she is beautiful, my City, That she is colorful and quaint, alone Among the cities. ...
Veils, everywhere float veils; veils long and black,Framing white faces, oft-times young and fair,But, like a rose touched by untimely ...
O preacher, prophet, martyr, sage, Whose message falls on heedless ears, Bethink that unrepentant age ...
Love, there is a castle built in a country desolate,On a rock above a forest where the trees are grim ...
IGrim and hungry both, we often talked together In an old suburban attic - remember? - just we two, While ...
Up and down the roads they go -- Vale to hill, and hill to vale --Leading on to Omeo Over ...
Here she bides, a buxom lady, Blest by peace and great content;Dwelling by her byways shady, Where the elm trees ...
These fought in any case,and some believing,pro domo, in any case.some quick to arm,some for adventure,some from fear of weakness,some ...
Along the lamp-lit streets they glide and go:Here Nature in her brutishness is nude:See, thinly trickling from the age-old wound,The ...
No worst, there is none. Pitched past pitch of grief, More pangs will, schooled at forepangs, wilder wring. Comforter, where, ...
When I die I don't care what happens to my body throw ashes in the air, scatter 'em in East ...
I was never a film buff, give me Widmark and Wayne any day Saturday matin?es with Margaret Gardener still hold ...
YES, friend, I own these tales of Arabia Smile not, as smiled their flawless originals, Age-old but yet untamed, for ...
To wash and rinse our souls of their age-old sorrows, We drained a hundred jugs of wine. A splendid night ...
For three years, out of key with his time, He strove to resuscitate the dead art Of poetry; to maintain ...
"Vocat aestus in umbram" Nemesianus Es. IV. E. P. Ode pour l'élection de son sépulchre For three years, out of ...
These fought in any case, and some believing pro domo, in any case ..... Died some, pro patria, walked eye-deep ...
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