My young son asks me… (Bertolt Brecht Poem)
My young son asks me: Must I learn mathematics? What is the use, I feel like saying. That two pieces ...
My young son asks me: Must I learn mathematics? What is the use, I feel like saying. That two pieces ...
New England. 1 Alas, dear Mother, fairest Queen and best, 2 With honour, wealth, and peace happy and blest, 3 ...
O Liberty, God-gifted-- Young and immortal maid-- In your high hand uplifted, The torch declares your trade. Its crimson menace, ...
(Translated from the French by Edouard Rodti) My wife with the hair of a wood fire With the thoughts of ...
"Had we never loved so kindly, Had we never loved so blindly, Never met or never parted, We had ne'er ...
BY QUEVEDO REDIVIVUS SUGGESTED BY THE COMPOSITION SO ENTITLED BY THE AUTHOR OF 'WAT TYLER' 'A Daniel come to judgment! ...
Henry Hankovitch, con guÃtar, did a short Zen pray, on his tatami in a relaxed lotos fixin his mind on ...
I. You're my friend: I was the man the Duke spoke to; I helped the Duchess to cast off his ...
I. You know, we French stormed Ratisbon: A mile or so away, On a little mound, Napoleon Stood on our ...
I. My heart sank with our Claret-flask, Just now, beneath the heavy sedges That serve this Pond's black face for ...
But do not let us quarrel any more, No, my Lucrezia; bear with me for once: Sit down and all ...
NO more wine? then we'll push back chairs and talk. A final glass for me, though: cool, i' faith! We ...
I. Gr-r-r---there go, my heart's abhorrence! Water your damned flower-pots, do! If hate killed men, Brother Lawrence, God's blood, would ...
KIND Sir, I've read your paper through, And faith, to me, 'twas really new! How guessed ye, Sir, what maist ...
starving there, sitting around the bars, and at night walking the streets for hours, the moonlight always seemed fake to ...
As Parmigianino did it, the right hand Bigger than the head, thrust at the viewer And swerving easily away, as ...
A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since departed, Mark the mastodon. The dinosaur, who left dry ...
FAIR fa' your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o' the pudding-race! Aboon them a' ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, ...
RecitativoWHEN lyart leaves bestrow the yird, Or wavering like the bauckie-bird, Bedim cauld Boreas' blast; When hailstanes drive wi' bitter ...
NOW Robin 1 lies in his last lair, He'll gabble rhyme, nor sing nae mair; Cauld poverty, wi' hungry stare, ...
I cut the middle fingernail of the middle finger right hand real short and I began rubbing along her cunt ...
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