The Drunken Fisherman (Robert Lowell Poem)
Wallowing in this bloody sty, I cast for fish that pleased my eye (Truly Jehovah's bow suspends No pots of ...
Wallowing in this bloody sty, I cast for fish that pleased my eye (Truly Jehovah's bow suspends No pots of ...
We're marchin' on relief over Injia's sunny plains, A little front o' Christmas-time an' just be'ind the Rains; Ho! get ...
The toad beneath the harrow knows Exactly where eath tooth-point goes. The butterfly upon the road Preaches contentment to that ...
'But that was nothing to what things came out From the sea-caves of Criccieth yonder.' 'What were they? Mermaids? dragons? ...
TO charms and philters, secret spells and prayers, How many round attribute all their cares! In these howe'er I never ...
Exert thy Voice, sweet Harbinger of Spring! This Moment is thy Time to sing, This Moment I attend to Praise, ...
The Moon upon her fluent Route Defiant of a Road -- The Star's Etruscan Argument Substantiate a God -- If ...
That odd old man is dead a year -- We miss his stated Hat. 'Twas such an evening bright and ...
I should have been too glad, I see -- Too lifted -- for the scant degree Of Life's penurious Round ...
Because my Brook is fluent I know 'tis dry -- Because my Brook is silent It is the Sea -- ...
The Lord receives his highest praise From humble minds and hearts sincere; While all the loud professor says Offends the ...
Hark! 'tis the twanging horn! O'er yonder bridge, That with its wearisome but needful length Bestrides the wintry flood, in ...
A green and silent spot, amid the hills, A small and silent dell ! O'er stiller place No singing sky-lark ...
1 To sing of Wars, of Captains, and of Kings, 2 Of Cities founded, Common-wealths begun, 3 For my mean ...
There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away When the glow of early thought declines ...
Ne Rubeam, Pingui donatus Munere (Horace, Epistles II.i.267) While you, great patron of mankind, sustain The balanc'd world, and open ...
Dans le fond des forêts votre image me suit. RACINE There is a panther stalks me down: One day I'll ...
Blameless as daylight I stood looking At a field of horses, necks bent, manes blown, Tails streaming against the green ...
After seeing at Boston the statue of Robert Gould Shaw, killed while storming Fort Wagner, July 18, 1863, at the ...
Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife He would have written sonnets all his life? DON JUAN, III, 63-4 ...
Your words dropped into my heart like pebbles into a pool, Rippling around my breast and leaving it melting cool. ...
Now and again All my body springs alive, And the life that is polarised in my eyes, That quivers between ...
My world is a painted fresco, where coloured shapes Of old, ineffectual lives linger blurred and warm; An endless tapestry ...
Inscribed to the Memory of John Keats. Dear uplands, Chester's favorable fields, My large unjealous Loves, many yet one -- ...
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