Into The Country Of The Gadarenes (AM Juster Poems)
Arthritic fingers of the olive treesAccuse the sun of ancient injuries.The shallows harden to an ochre crustWhile bony cattle huddle ...
Arthritic fingers of the olive treesAccuse the sun of ancient injuries.The shallows harden to an ochre crustWhile bony cattle huddle ...
Sublime beverage, supreme tipple,The slick nectar (but the Haig's slicker!)Which gods drew from a divine nippleAnd thick nights became a ...
Little candles glistening,Telling those are listeningLegends manifold,Many a little story,Tales of blood and gloryOf the days of old.As I watch ...
The Press is too much with us, small and great:We are undone of chatter and on dit,Report, retort, rejoinder, repartee,Mole-hill ...
AN IMPARTIAL HISTORY of the RISE, PROGRESS, AND EXTINCTION of the late REBELLION In Britain, in the Years 1745 and ...
'TIS nine o'clock:-to bed! cried Egremont,Who with his youthful household (for 'tis nowLong since) inhabited a lonely homeIn the Australian ...
THAT way he went with no will of his own,in danger of life, to the dragon's hoard,but for pressure of ...
I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern, To ...
I freely confess there are good friends of mine,With whom we are often invited to dine,Who get on my nerves ...
You'll learn when you're older, that chip on your shoulderWhich you dare other boys to upsetAnd stand up and fight ...
As I stood amid the bracken, as I stood amid the fern, I could hear the merry bicker, the blithe ...
In maudlin spite let Thracians fight Above their bowls of liquor;But such as we, when on a spree, Should never ...
Sir Walter RaleighBickered down the valley.But he could do better than the rill,For he could bicker up-hill.(Edmund Clerihew Bentley)
O GOWDIE, terror o' the whigs, Dread o' blackcoats and rev'rend wigs! Sour Bigotry, on her last legs, Girns an' ...
This is the lair of the landlady She is a raw voice loose in the rooms beneath me. the continuous ...
ONE night as I did wander, When corn begins to shoot, I sat me down to ponder Upon an auld ...
SOME books are lies frae end to end, And some great lies were never penn'd: Ev'n ministers they hae been ...
I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern, To ...
O purblind race of miserable men, How many among us at this very hour Do forge a life-long trouble for ...
All day long when the shells sail over I stand at the sandbags and take my chance; But at night, ...
to Robert Hass and in memory of Elliot Gilbert Slow dulcimer, gavotte and bow, in autumn, Bashõ and his friends ...
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