Telemachus Versus Mentor (Francis Bret Harte Poems)
Don't mind me, I beg you, old fellow,--I'll do very well here alone;You must not be kept from your "German" ...
Don't mind me, I beg you, old fellow,--I'll do very well here alone;You must not be kept from your "German" ...
A Vienna ci sono dieci ragazze,una spalla dove piange la mortee un bosco di colombe disseccate.C'e' un frammento del mattinonel ...
IStrike not thy dog with a stick!I did it yesterday:Not to undo though I gainedThe Paradise: heavy it rainedOn Kobold's ...
Once there was a little boy who wouldn't go to bed, When they hinted at the subject he would only ...
Poets have sung of the old-fashioned glories The old-fashioned pictures that hung on the wall,The old-fashioned people, the old-fashioned stories, ...
On a fateful day, an unlucky time,Unannounced, it may happen thus:Stifling, blacker still than a monasteryUtter madness descends on us.Bitter ...
The other night while we lay musing, and our weary brain confusing o'er the topics of the day,Suddenly we heard ...
Home to old Saddleworth, home once more,How my heart is stirred to its innermost core;For I've been roaming and it's ...
And what was the big room he walked in? The big room he walked in, Over the smooth floor, Under ...
IF I had wealth and I had health,And I 'd a roof above me,If I'd a wife to cheer my ...
See how December snows…Look there by the window, my dear -Tell them to bring in more embers,Then we can hear ...
When, having finished, I shall move my armchair,The page will gasp, awakened from the strain.Delirious, she is half asleep at ...
The future was dark and the past was dead As they gazed on the sea once more - But a ...
In Vienna there are ten little girls, a shoulder for death to cry on, and a forest of dried pigeons. ...
A Vienna ci sono dieci ragazze, una spalla dove piange la morte e un bosco di colombe disseccate. C'e' un ...
Now, moving in, cartons on the floor, the radio playing to bare walls, picture hooks left stranded in the unsoiled ...
There, in the corner, staring at his drink. The cap juts like a gantry's crossbeam, Cowling plated forehead and sledgehead ...
Sometimes the notes are ferocious, skirmishes against the author raging along the borders of every page in tiny black script. ...
'Lay me in a cushioned chair; Carry me, ye four, With cushions here and cushions there, To see the world ...
The bar he went inside was not A place he often visited; He welcomed anonymity; No one to switch inquisitive ...
In all the pubs from Troon to Ayr Grandfather's father would repair With Bobby Burns, a drouthy pair, The glass ...
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