A Newport Romance (Francis Bret Harte Poems)
They say that she died of a broken heart (I tell the tale as 'twas told to me);But her spirit ...
They say that she died of a broken heart (I tell the tale as 'twas told to me);But her spirit ...
This morning saw I, fled the shower,The earth reclining in a lull of power:The heavens, pursuing not their path,Lay stretched ...
'Twas a brave old spot, and deep was the shadeBy the fast-locked boughs of the elm-trees made,Where the sun scarce ...
AUTUMN to winter, winter into spring, Spring into summer, summer into fall,-- So rolls the changing year, and so we ...
Yet do not thou forsake me now, Poesy, with Peace-together!Ere this last disastrous blowDid lay my struggling fortunes low,In ...
She waited in a rose-hued room;A wanton-hearted creature she,But beautiful and bright to seeAs some great orchid just in bloom.Upon ...
As smoke from a volcano soars in the air, The soul of man discontent mounts from a sigh, Exhaled as ...
Yes, let me die ! Am I of spirit-birth,And shall I linger here where spirits fell, Loving the stain they ...
When I am tired of earnest men, Intense and keen and sharp and clever, Pursuing fame with brush or pen ...
O Sovereign power of love! O grief! O balm! All records, saving thine, come cool, and calm, And shadowy, through ...
Not merely a breath, the breath of life whispered into the bones. No, the wind, from the ends of the ...
The Waste Land by T. S. Eliot "Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis vidi in ampulla pendere, et ...
Great Streets of silence led away To Neighborhoods of Pause -- Here was no Notice -- no Dissent No Universe ...
There were long hyphens in our day- When no one spoke; no one exhaled As we contemplated the broken puzzles- ...
My impoverished muse, alas! What have you for me this morning? Your empty eyes are stocked with nocturnal visions, In ...
In vain, fair Maid, you ask in vain, My pen should try th' advent'rous strain, And following truth's unalter'd law, ...
Mournful groans, as when a tempest lowers, Echo from the dreary house of woe; Death-notes rise from yonder minster's towers! ...
Five hours, (and who can do it less in?) By haughty Celia spent in dressing; The goddess from her chamber ...
What shall I do with this body they gave me, so much my own, so intimate with me? For being ...
Now Morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl, When Adam waked, so ...
No more of talk where God or Angel guest With Man, as with his friend, familiar us'd, To sit indulgent, ...
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