The Imaginary Iceberg (Elizabeth Bishop Poem)
We'd rather have the iceberg than the ship, although it meant the end of travel. Although it stood stock-still like ...
We'd rather have the iceberg than the ship, although it meant the end of travel. Although it stood stock-still like ...
I dreamed that dead, and meditating, I lay upon a grave, or bed, (at least, some cold and close-built bower). ...
LEAVE me a little while alone, Here at his grave that still is strown With crumbling flower and wreath; The ...
The door is shut. She leaves the curtained office, And down the grey-walled stairs comes trembling slowly Towards the dazzling ...
Wind blows. Snow falls. The great clock in its tower Ticks with reverberant coil and tolls the hour: At the ...
The lamplit page is turned, the dream forgotten; The music changes tone, you wake, remember Deep worlds you lived before,-deep ...
Of what she said to me that night-no matter. The strange thing came next day. My brain was full of ...
In early morning twilight, raw and chill, Damp vapours brooding on the barren hill, Through miles of mire in steady ...
Far from the churchyard dig his grave, On some green mound beside the wave; To westward, sea and sky alone, ...
Gray, gray is Abbey Assaroe, by Belashanny town, It has neither door nor window, the walls are broken down; The ...
Come, thrust your hands in the warm earth And feel her strength through all your veins; Breathe her full odors, ...
Per me si va ne la citt? dolente, per me si va ne l'etterno dolore, per me si va tra ...
I have a life that did not become, that turned aside and stopped, astonished: I hold it in me like ...
Do not cry for me, Mother, seeing me in the grave. I This greatest hour was hallowed and thandered By ...
Here is my gift, not roses on your grave, not sticks of burning incense. You lived aloof, maintaining to the ...
Not under foreign skies Nor under foreign wings protected - I shared all this with my own people There, where ...
On a little hill amid fertile fields lies a small cemetery, a Jewish cemetery behind a rusty gate, hidden by ...
Hebrew writing and Arabic writing go from east to west, Latin writing, from west to east. Languages are like cats: ...
Visits of condolence is all we get from them. They squat at the Holocaust Memorial, They put on grave faces ...
Glion?--Ah, twenty years, it cuts All meaning from a name! White houses prank where once were huts. Glion, but not ...
In this lone, open glade I lie, Screen'd by deep boughs on either hand; And at its end, to stay ...
Coldly, sadly descends The autumn-evening. The field Strewn with its dank yellow drifts Of wither'd leaves, and the elms, Fade ...
Through Alpine meadows soft-suffused With rain, where thick the crocus blows, Past the dark forges long disused, The mule-track from ...
'Tis death! and peace, indeed, is here, And ease from shame, and rest from fear. There's nothing can dismarble now ...
And the first grey of morning fill'd the east, And the fog rose out of the Oxus stream. But all ...
Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Greece, Long since, saw Byron's struggle cease. But one such death remain'd to come; The ...
We were apart; yet, day by day, I bade my heart more constant be. I bade it keep the world ...
Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill; Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes! No longer leave thy ...
A free bird leaps on the back Of the wind and floats downstream Till the current ends and dips his ...
Tell me not in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream!— For the soul is dead that slumbers, And ...
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