Sonnet LXIX: “I cannot tell what charms my lady finds” (George Henry Boker Poems)
LXIXI cannot tell what charms my lady finds In this dull face, huge form and sullen soul; Nor how my ...
LXIXI cannot tell what charms my lady finds In this dull face, huge form and sullen soul; Nor how my ...
Like as a dryad, from her native bole Coming at dusk, when the dim stars emerge, To a slow river ...
Porcelain-white, the flicker's eggsLined the bottom of the holeIn the pine's dead bole.(Clark Ashton Smith)
I How fresh the Dartle's little waves that day! A steely silver, underlined with blue, And flashing where the round ...
Between us leapt a gold and scarlet flame. Into the hollow of the cupped, arched blue Of Heaven it rose. ...
Only stand high a long enough time your lightning will come; that is what blunts the peaks of redwoods; But ...
Foundered March 24. 1878 1 The Eurydice-it concerned thee, O Lord: Three hundred souls, O alas! on board, Some asleep ...
It is December in Wicklow: Alders dripping, birches Inheriting the last light, The ash tree cold to look at. A ...
Drinking my tea Without sugar- No difference. The sparrow shits upside down --ah! my brain & eggs Mayan head in ...
Thrill with lissome lust of the light, O man ! My man ! Come careering out of the night Of ...
Thrill with lissome lust of the light, O man ! My man ! Come careering out of the night Of ...
The poet in his lone yet genial hour Gives to his eyes a magnifying power : Or rather he emancipates ...
In the high leaves of a walnut, On the very topmost boughs, A boy that climbed the branching bole His ...
Below are eleven Buson haiku beginning with the phrase 'The short night--' The short night-- on the hairy caterpillar beads ...
Oh, to be in England Now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware, That the ...
Chorus.-The weary pund, the weary pund, The weary pund o' tow; I think my wife will end her life, Before ...
I I walk through the long schoolroom questioning; A kind old nun in a white hood replies; The children learn ...
Once more the gate behind me falls; Once more before my face I see the moulder'd Abbey-walls, That stand within ...
Now, scarce three paces measured from the mound, We stumbled on a stationary voice, And 'Stand, who goes?' 'Two from ...
Like as a dryad, from her native bole Coming at dusk, when the dim stars emerge, To a slow river ...
Divorced, but friends again at last, we walk old ground together in bright blue uncomplicated weather. We laugh and pause ...
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