The Cockney Soul (Henry Lawson Poem)
From Woolwich and Brentford and Stamford Hill, from Richmond into the Strand, Oh, the Cockney soul is a silent soul ...
From Woolwich and Brentford and Stamford Hill, from Richmond into the Strand, Oh, the Cockney soul is a silent soul ...
ENDYMION. A Poetic Romance. "THE STRETCHED METRE OF AN AN ANTIQUE SONG." INSCRIBED TO THE MEMORY OF THOMAS CHATTERTON. Book ...
Nearly everyone had left that bar in the middle of winter except the hardcore.It was the coldest night of the ...
August First: it was a year ago we drove down from St.-Guilhem-le-Désert to open the house in St. Guiraud rented ...
The telephone company calls and asks what the fuss is. Betty from the telephone company, who's not concerned with the ...
I Baked the day she suddenly dropped dead we chew it slowly that last apple pie. Shocked into sleeplessness you're ...
The stronger winds the rain in the night exposing the limbs the arms of the trees stripped bare of their ...
If we slow our reading and treasure all the words learning from a righteous man who stumbled before God Taking ...
Turning my head, drawn to the brilliant light tearing through, the slate, the blues, the white, the envelope of the ...
She was the one, the test case the alpha, the first who pushed the envelope bucked the system went her ...
A blackbird lands A good beer-barrel A man sits in a cave knitting A theatre in Copenhagen Abask the sea-wall ...
for tess Tonight there's a crowd in my head: all the things you are not yet. You are words without ...
How far is it to peace, the piper sighed, The solitary, sweating as he paused. Asphalt the noon; the ravens, ...
the phone rang at 1:30 a.m. and it was a man from Denver: "Chinaski, you got a following in Denver..." ...
'This envelope you say has something in it Which once belonged to your dead son-or something He knew, was fond ...
The door is shut. She leaves the curtained office, And down the grey-walled stairs comes trembling slowly Towards the dazzling ...
How often have I started out With no thought in my noodle, And wandered here and there about, Where fancy ...
Smith, great writer of stories, drank; found it immortalized his pen; Fused in his brain-pan, else a blank, heavens of ...
I SAW a telegram handed a two hundred pound man at a desk. And the little scrap of paper charged ...
Flamingo silk. New ruff, the ivory ghost of a halter. Chestnut curls, * commas behind the ear. "Taller, by half ...
"So pulse, and pulse, thou rhythmic-hearted Noon That liest, large-limbed, curved along the hills, In languid palpitation, half a-swoon With ...
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