The Twelve-Forty (Alfred Joyce Kilmer Poems)
Within the Jersey City shedThe engine coughs and shakes its head,The smoke, a plume of red and white,Waves madly in ...
Within the Jersey City shedThe engine coughs and shakes its head,The smoke, a plume of red and white,Waves madly in ...
It is nothing to me, the beauty said,With a careless toss of her pretty head;The man is weak if he ...
Of all kinds of conveyances, I think the omnibusFor many little reasons should be voted best by us;But there are ...
Life is like a mountain railroad, with an engineer that's brave;We must make the run successful, from the cradle to ...
"I want to be a brakeman, Dog gone!Legs hangin' over the edge of a flat car,Train goin' 'bout twenty-five miles ...
My dear railway station, my treasure Of meetings and partings, my friend In times of hard trials and pleasure, Your ...
WE must trust the Conductor, most surely; Why, millions of millions before Have made this same journey securely And come ...
Poetry? It's a hobby.I run model trains.Mr Shaw there breeds pigeons. It's not work. You don't sweat.Nobody pays for it.You ...
Why I wonder am I so strangely happy?It's as if two birds were livingbehind my tense breasts -golden sweetness rises ...
Within the gold square of the proscenium arch, A curtain of orange velvet hangs in stiff folds, Its tassels jarring ...
(For Edward J. Wheeler) Within the Jersey City shed The engine coughs and shakes its head, The smoke, a plume ...
This 'appened in a battle to a batt'ry of the corps Which is first among the women an' amazin' first ...
After Joseph Roth Parce que c'était lui; parce que c'était moi. Montaigne, De L'amitië The dream's forfeit was a night ...
The neighbors' dog will not stop barking. He is barking the same high, rhythmic bark that he barks every time ...
I sit on the tracks, a hundred feet from earth, fifty from the water. Gerald is inching toward me as ...
It seemed as if the enormous journey was finally approaching its conclusion. From the window of the train the last ...
STANDING IN EDEN 1 Poetry claimed me young on Skegness beach Before I was born I answered her cry For ...
Fate is above me. Why should I browse? Sleeping in dosses, an outcast, I rove. Grief is a cellar, that ...
I sit on the tracks, a hundred feet from earth, fifty from the water. Gerald is inching toward me as ...
It seemed as if the enormous journey was finally approaching its conclusion. From the window of the train the last ...
PILE the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo. Shovel them under and let me work- I am the grass; I ...
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