Obermann Once More (Matthew Arnold Poem)
Glion?--Ah, twenty years, it cuts All meaning from a name! White houses prank where once were huts. Glion, but not ...
Glion?--Ah, twenty years, it cuts All meaning from a name! White houses prank where once were huts. Glion, but not ...
How changed is here each spot man makes or fills! In the two Hinkseys nothing keeps the same; The village ...
In this lone, open glade I lie, Screen'd by deep boughs on either hand; And at its end, to stay ...
We cannot kindle when we will The fire which in the heart resides; The spirit bloweth and is still, In ...
Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet, Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet! I feel a nameless ...
Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet, Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet! I feel a nameless ...
'Tis death! and peace, indeed, is here, And ease from shame, and rest from fear. There's nothing can dismarble now ...
In his cool hall, with haggard eyes, The Roman noble lay; He drove abroad, in furious guise, Along the Appian ...
And the first grey of morning fill'd the east, And the fog rose out of the Oxus stream. But all ...
Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Greece, Long since, saw Byron's struggle cease. But one such death remain'd to come; The ...
Come, dear children, let us away; Down and away below! Now my brothers call from the bay, Now the great ...
What is it to grow old? Is it to lose the glory of the form, The lustre of the eye? ...
Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill; Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes! No longer leave thy ...
You begin this way: this is your hand, this is your eye, this is a fish, blue and flat on ...
You fit into me like a hook into an eye A fish hook An open eye (Margaret Atwood)
Tyger Tyger. burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye. Could frame thy fearful symmetry? ...
I love to rise in a summer morn, When the birds sing on every tree; The distant huntsman winds his ...
Rudolph Reed was oaken. His wife was oaken too. And his two good girls and his good little man Oakened ...
good weather is like good women- it doesn't always happen and when it does it doesn't always last. man is ...
ah, christ, what a CREW: more poetry, always more P O E T R Y . if it doesn't come, ...
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day ? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake ...
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