Advice To Sonnet Writers 2 (Archbishop William Alexander Poems)
If thou hast merely art mosaicwiseTo cramp just fourteen lines with rhymes just five;If thou our Shakespeare's sonnet half despiseBecause ...
If thou hast merely art mosaicwiseTo cramp just fourteen lines with rhymes just five;If thou our Shakespeare's sonnet half despiseBecause ...
IT'S copied out at last: very poor stuff Writ in the cold, with pauses of the cramp. Direct, dear William, ...
Razors pain you;Rivers are damp;Acids stain you;And drugs cause cramp.Guns aren't lawful;Nooses give;Gas smells awful;You might as well live.(Dorothy Parker)
It was pleasant up the country, City Bushman, where you went, For you sought the greener patches and you travelled ...
There are who lord it o'er their fellow-men With most prevailing tinsel: who unpen Their baaing vanities, to browse away ...
Rhyme, the rack of finest wits, That expresseth but by fits True conceit, Spoiling senses of their treasure, Cozening judgment ...
Through darkness and traffic, I start each day; On the miles to work, I start to pray. ***** I talk ...
In seventeen hundred, a much hated sultan visited us twice, finally dying of headaches in the south harbor. Ever since, ...
Only the stars endome the lonely camp, Only the desert leagues encompass it; Waterless wastes, a wilderness of wit, Embattled ...
Only the stars endome the lonely camp, Only the desert leagues encompass it; Waterless wastes, a wilderness of wit, Embattled ...
Now Night came down, and rose full soon That patroness of rogues, the Moon; Beneath whose kind protecting ray, Wolves, ...
Comrades, leave me here a little, while as yet 't is early morn: Leave me here, and when you want ...
Thou pretty heav'n whose great and lesser spheares With constant wheelings measure hours and yeares Soe faithfully that thou couldst ...
I I see the boys of summer in their ruin Lay the gold tithings barren, Setting no store by harvest, ...
Said a monkey unto me: "How I'm glad I am not you! See, I swing from tree to tree, Something ...
There's sunshine in the heart of me, My blood sings in the breeze; The mountains are a part of me, ...
This is the place where they all were bred; Some of the rafters are standing still; Now they are scattered ...
With tears they buried you to-day, But well I knew no turf could hold Your gladness long beneath the mould, ...
Soul O Who shall, from this Dungeon, raise A Soul inslav'd so many wayes? With bolts of Bones, that fetter'd ...
--The Carpathian Frontier, October, 1968 --for my brother Once, in a foreign country, I was suddenly ill. I was driving ...
Page 5 A few hours more, station, deserted, a dirt road for inside the town, mud, mud, blankets outside, mouldering ...
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