The Fish (Rupert Brooke Poem)
In a cool curving world he lies And ripples with dark ecstasies. The kind luxurious lapse and steal Shapes all ...
In a cool curving world he lies And ripples with dark ecstasies. The kind luxurious lapse and steal Shapes all ...
Voices out of the shade that cried, And long noon in the hot calm places, And children's play by the ...
"Oh yes, I went over to Edmonstoun the other day and saw Johnny, mooning around as usual! He will never ...
He lay within a warm, soft world Of motion. Colors bloomed and fled, Maroon and turquoise, saffron, red, Wave upon ...
The boat ploughed on. Now Alcatraz was past And all the grey waves flamed to red again At the dead ...
'Twas after dread Pultowa's day, When fortune left the royal Swede - Around a slaughtered army lay, No more to ...
A Fragment of a Turkish Tale The tale which these disjointed fragments present, is founded upon circumstances now less common ...
When, by decree of the supreme power, The Poet appears in this annoyed world, His mother, blasphemous out of horror ...
Over the sea our galleys went, With cleaving prows in order brave, To a speeding wind and a bounding wave, ...
I. You're my friend: I was the man the Duke spoke to; I helped the Duchess to cast off his ...
(PIANO DI SORRENTO.) Fortu, Frotu, my beloved one, Sit here by my side, On my knees put up both little ...
I What's become of Waring Since he gave us all the slip, Chose land-travel or seafaring, Boots and chest, or ...
I. So far as our story approaches the end, Which do you pity the most of us three?- My friend, ...
The rain has stopped. The waterfall will roar like that all night. I have come out to take a walk ...
He sleeps on the top of a mast. - Bunyan He sleeps on the top of a mast with his ...
The yard half a yard, half a lake blue as a corpse. The lake will tell things you long to ...
We sow the glebe, we reap the corn, We build the house where we may rest, And then, at moments, ...
'My future will not copy fair my past'- I wrote that once; and thinking at my side My ministering life-angel ...
What's the best thing in the world? June-rose, by May-dew impearled; Sweet south-wind, that means no rain; Truth, not cruel ...
When my mother died I was very young, And my father sold me while yet my tongue, Could scarcely cry ...
death wants more death, and its webs are full: I remember my father's garage, how child-like I would brush the ...
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