[Greek] (Ezra Pound Poems)
Be in me as the eternal moods of the bleak wind, and not As transient ...
Be in me as the eternal moods of the bleak wind, and not As transient ...
Why does the thin grey strand Floating up from the forgotten Cigarette between my fingers, Why does it trouble me? ...
Part First Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut the door. A storm was rising, heavy gusts of wind Swirled through the trees, ...
1. Cogida and death At five in the afternoon. It was exactly five in the afternoon. A boy brought the ...
(Maidens' song from St. Winefred's Well) THE LEADEN ECHO How to kéep-is there ány any, is there none such, nowhere ...
Since the Road of Life's so ill; I, to pass it, use this Skill, My frail Carriage driving home To ...
I've known a Heaven, like a Tent -- To wrap its shining Yards -- Pluck up its stakes, and disappear ...
We will make our meek adjustments, Contented with such random consolations As the wind deposits In slithered and too ample ...
'Twas after dread Pultowa's day, When fortune left the royal Swede - Around a slaughtered army lay, No more to ...
ANGEL of gaiety, have you tasted grief? Shame and remorse and sobs and weary spite, And the vague terrors of ...
I I sought a theme and sought for it in vain, I sought it daily for six weeks or so. ...
(For Harry Clifton) I HAVE heard that hysterical women say They are sick of the palette and fiddle-bow. Of poets ...
A middle-northern March, now as always- gusts from the South broken against cold winds- but from under, as if a ...
I. A BIRD delicious to the taste, On which an army once did feast, Sent by an hand unseen; A ...
I Airy, Fairy Lilian, Flitting, fairy Lilian, When I ask her if she love me, Claps her tiny hands above ...
Scene, on an Eminence on one of those Downs, which afford to the South a view of the Sea; to ...
Author Note: Divers Princes and Noblemen being assembled in a beautiful and fair Palace, which was situate upon the river ...
The General now lives in town; He's eighty odd, they say; You'll see him strolling up and down The Prada ...
NOT unremembering we pass our exile from the starry ways: One timeless hour in time we caught from the long ...
With Homer you conversed alone for days and nights, Our waiting hours were passing slowly, And shining you came down ...
On he goes, the little one, Bud of the universe, Pediment of life. Setting off somewhere, apparently. Whither away, brisk ...
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