The Stedfast Shepherd (George Wither Poems)
Hence away, thou Syren, leave me!Pish! unclaspe these wanton armes;Sugred words can ne'er deceive me,(Though thou prove a thousand charmes).Fie, ...
Hence away, thou Syren, leave me!Pish! unclaspe these wanton armes;Sugred words can ne'er deceive me,(Though thou prove a thousand charmes).Fie, ...
They're buildin' the gallows outside my cell.I got 25 minutes to go.And in 25 minutes I'll be in Hell.I got ...
When evening came and the warm glow grew deeper And every tree that bordered the green meadows And in the yellow cornfields ...
Money burns the pocket, pocket hurts,Bootleggers in silken shirts,Ballooned, zooming Cadillacs,Whizzing, whizzing down the street-car tracks.Seventh Street is a bastrad ...
MEDICINE me,O Friend-of-the-Soul-of-Man,With purging waters!For my soul festersAnd an odor of corruptionBetrays me to disaster.As a place of carrionWhere buzzards ...
I wonder if the spell, the mystery,That like a haze about your silence clings,Moulding your void until we seem to ...
The day of the long team is o'er,The long-line teamster is seen no more,The cadent notes of the leader's chimesAre ...
You've watched the ground-hog's shadow and the shiftin' weather signsTill the Northern prairie starred itse'f with flowers;You've seen the snow ...
Where is Australia, singer, do you know? These sordid farms and joyless factories, Mephitic mines and lanes of pallid woe? ...
I give the yawp barbaricOf piety and pelf(Who now reads Herrick?)And contradict myselfNo matter, the verse is large.My five-and-ten cent ...
Here, where the lonely hooting owlSends forth his midnight moans,Fierce wolves shall o'er my carcase growl,Or buzzards pick my bones.No ...
That night hoss he got the gate open. You find the next mornin' he's gone.And there by the fence lays ...
To-day I want the sky,The tops of the high hills,Above the last man's house,His hedges, and his cows,Where, if I ...
The saris go by me from the embassies. Cloth from the moon. Cloth from another planet. They look back at ...
SHE has gone,-- she has left us in passion and pride,-- Our stormy-browed sister, so long at our side! She ...
The state with the prettiest name, the state that floats in brackish water, held together by mangrave roots that bear ...
There were still shards of an ancient pastoral in those shires of the island where the cattle drank their pools ...
He's the man from Eldorado, and he's just arrived in town, In moccasins and oily buckskin shirt. He's gaunt as ...
The buzzards wheel slowly In wide circles, in a sky Faintly hazed as from dust from the road. And a ...
A Fantasy, dedicated to the little poet Alice Oliver Henderson, ten years old. The Fantasy shows how tiger-hearts are the ...
One sweet pound of filet mignon sizzles on the roadside. Let's say a hundred yards below the buzzard. The buzzard ...
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