The Burglar Of Babylon (Elizabeth Bishop Poem)
On the fair green hills of Rio There grows a fearful stain: The poor who come to Rio And can't ...
On the fair green hills of Rio There grows a fearful stain: The poor who come to Rio And can't ...
He sleeps on the top of a mast. - Bunyan He sleeps on the top of a mast with his ...
Do you believe, in what you see do you believe in reality do you believe in the sun that's bright ...
Now, when the moon slid under the cloud And the cold clear dark of starlight fell, He heard in his ...
Well, as you say, we live for small horizons: We move in crowds, we flow and talk together, Seeing so ...
Wind blows. Snow falls. The great clock in its tower Ticks with reverberant coil and tolls the hour: At the ...
One, from his high bright window in a tower, Leans out, as evening falls, And sees the advancing curtain of ...
I The girl in the room beneath Before going to bed Strums on a mandolin The three simple tunes she ...
Fanfare of northwest wind, a bluejay wind announces autumn, and the equinox rolls back blue bays to a far afternoon. ...
Beloved, let us once more praise the rain. Let us discover some new alphabet, For this, the often praised; and ...
You know how it is waking from a dream certain you can fly and that someone, long gone, returned and ...
Adieu to Belashanny! where I was bred and born; Go where I may, I'll think of you, as sure as ...
Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee! E'en though it be a cross That raiseth me: Still all my ...
We are thine, O Love, being in thee and made of thee, As théou, Léove, were the déep thought And ...
I The bitterness. the misery, the wretchedness of childhood Put me out of love with God. I can't believe in ...
Long ago in a poultry yard One dull November morn, Beneath a motherly soft wing A little goose was born. ...
Fall's leaves are redder than spring's flowers, have no pollen, and also sometimes fly, as the wind schools them out ...
Fall fell: so that's it for the leaf poetry: some flurries have whitened the edges of roads and lawns: time ...
You'll rejoice at how many kinds of shit there are: gosling shit (which J. Williams said something was as green ...
As Parmigianino did it, the right hand Bigger than the head, thrust at the viewer And swerving easily away, as ...
I hear the oriole's always-grieving voice, And the rich summer's welcome loss I hear In the sickle's serpentine hiss Cutting ...
So many stones have been thrown at me, That I'm not frightened of them anymore, And the pit has become ...
Not under foreign skies Nor under foreign wings protected - I shared all this with my own people There, where ...
On Rabbi Kook's Street I walk without this good man-- A streiml he wore for prayer A silk top hat ...
Hebrew writing and Arabic writing go from east to west, Latin writing, from west to east. Languages are like cats: ...
How changed is here each spot man makes or fills! In the two Hinkseys nothing keeps the same; The village ...
Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill; Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes! No longer leave thy ...
He was the sort of man who wouldn't hurt a fly. Many flies are now alive while he is not. ...
HERE'S a bottle and an honest friend! What wad ye wish for mair, man? Wha kens, before his life may ...
Green grow the rashes, O! Green grow the rashes, O! The sweetest hours that e'er I spend, Are spent amang ...
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