No Buyers (Thomas Hardy Poem)
A Load of brushes and baskets and cradles and chairs Labours along the street in the rain: With it a ...
A Load of brushes and baskets and cradles and chairs Labours along the street in the rain: With it a ...
Knows he who tills this lonely field To reap its scanty corn, What mystic fruit his acres yield At midnight ...
Venus, when her son was lost, Cried him up and down the coast, In hamlets, palaces, and parks, And told ...
I rose -- because He sank -- I thought it would be opposite -- But when his power dropped -- ...
And the Piper dreams as he pipes up in his mind colours in choral horizons distant, of courtliness dimmed in ...
My father is a quiet man With sober, steady ways; For simile, a folded fan; His nights are like his ...
A closed window looks down on a dirty courtyard, and black people call across or scream or walk across defying ...
Morne esprit, autrefois amoureux de la lutte, L'Espoir, dont l'éperon attisait ton ardeur, Ne veut plus t'enfourcher! Couche-toi sans pudeur, ...
We sighing said, "Our Pan is dead; His pipe hangs mute beside the river Around it wistful sunbeams quiver, But ...
Now the day is done, Now the shepherd sun Drives his white flocks from the sky; Now the flowers rest ...
How changed is here each spot man makes or fills! In the two Hinkseys nothing keeps the same; The village ...
THOU whom chance may hither lead, Be thou clad in russet weed, Be thou deckt in silken stole, Grave these ...
1 AS the time draws nigh, glooming, a cloud, A dread beyond, of I know not what, darkens me. I ...
I asked nothing, only stood at the edge of the wood behind the tree. Languor was still upon the eyes ...
'Farewell and adieu' was the burden prevailing Long since in the chant of a home-faring crew; And the heart in ...
I O THOU, that sit'st upon a throne, With harp of high majestic tone, To praise the King of kings; ...
MAKE war songs out of these; Make chants that repeat and weave. Make rhythms up to the ragtime chatter of ...
I WOULD I could weave in The colour, the wonder, The song I conceive in My heart while I ponder, ...
To Jena Woodhouse This way of minutes miserably mixed With their own blinks misunderstood By birds and trees, this eye-born ...
THE North Star whispers: "You are one Of those whose course no chance can change. You blunder, but are not ...
Too soon you wearied of our tears. And then you danced with spangled feet, Leading Belshazzar's chattering court A-tinkling through ...
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