Bryan, Bryan, Bryan, Bryan (Vachel Lindsay Poems)
IIn a nation of one hundred fine, mob-hearted, lynching, relenting, repenting millions,There are plenty of sweeping, swinging, stinging, gorgeous things ...
IIn a nation of one hundred fine, mob-hearted, lynching, relenting, repenting millions,There are plenty of sweeping, swinging, stinging, gorgeous things ...
The Latin speeches ended, the English thus beganHail native language, that by sinews weakDidst move my first endeavouring tongue to ...
The sky grew dull, the noon-day lamp withdrew, In even scale the saucy winds were hung; Sudden, dim flashed the ...
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