The Ballad Of The Taylor Pup (Eugene Field Poems)
Now lithe and listen, gentles all, Now lithe ye all and harkUnto a ballad I shall sing About Buena Park.Of ...
Now lithe and listen, gentles all, Now lithe ye all and harkUnto a ballad I shall sing About Buena Park.Of ...
In summer time, when leaves grow greene,And blossoms bedecke the tree,King Edward wolde a hunting ryde,Some pastime for to see.With ...
Have you heard the story that gossips tell Of Burns of Gettysburg?-No? Ah, well, Brief is the glory that hero ...
Of whispering trees the tongues to hear,And sermons of the silent stone;To read in brooks the print so clearOf motion, ...
In the old town traditions -- as greybeards will explain --One epic tale immortalises Lah-di-dah Lane, Clerk to a local ...
Ever stood th' twelve t' fourAnchor watch, alone at night,When th' lights along th' shoreWere jes' blinkin' out o' sight?Ever ...
WATCHING through the long, dim hours Like statued Mithras, stand ironic towers; Their haughty lines severe by light Are softened ...
That Whitsun, I was late getting away: Not till about One-twenty on the sunlit Saturday Did my three-quarters-empty train pull ...
The old Jimmy Woodser comes into the bar Unwelcomed, unnoticed, unknown, Too old and too odd to be drunk with, ...
Up attic, Lucas Harrison, God rest his frugal bones, once kept a tidy account by knifecut of some long-gone harvest. ...
We chanced in passing by that afternoon To catch it in a sort of special picture Among tar-banded ancient cherry ...
When Mother died I thought: now I'll have a death poem. That was unforgivable. Yet I've since forgiven myself as ...
Of nearness to her sundered Things The Soul has special times -- When Dimness -- looks the Oddity -- Distinctness ...
In Virgynë the sweltrie sun gan sheene, And hotte upon the mees did caste his raie; The apple rodded from ...
Love is not a profession genteel or otherwise sex is not dentistry the slick filling of aches and cavities you ...
From all of this I am the only one who leaves. From this bench I go away, from my pants, ...
(To: S.W.) every silent plant in the garden knows two sorts of wishes make up the world: one is conceived ...
A beggar in the street I saw, Who held a hand like withered claw, As cold as clay; But as ...
Dear dead Victoria Rotted cosily; In excelsis gloria, And R. I. P. And her shroud was buttoned neat, And her ...
I I have loved England, dearly and deeply, Since that first morning, shining and pure, The white cliffs of Dover ...
has not altered;-- a place as kind as it is green, the greenest place I've never seen. Every name is ...
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