Goya (Conrad Potter Aiken Poems)
Goya drew a pig on a wall. The five-year-old hairdresser's son Saw, graved on a silver tray, The lion; and ...
Goya drew a pig on a wall. The five-year-old hairdresser's son Saw, graved on a silver tray, The lion; and ...
THIS is a place where men laid their dead, Each with his life-tale of good or ill; Here ...
A civic lady, peerly proudOf excellences that here crowd About her trim, well-ordered streets: The visitor she warmly greetsE'er with ...
To learned Athens, led by fame,As once the man of Tarsus came,With pity and surpriseMidst idol altars as he stood,O'er ...
I saw Time in his workshop carving faces; Scattered around his tools lay, blunting griefs, Sharp cares that cut out ...
If any comfort lies within the zone Of ruddy gold that round thy finger clings; If from the ruby's steady ...
When I consider what a time has flown, Shaping this planet to the thing we see, And what unnumbered ages ...
Jesu is in my heart, his sacred nameIs deeply carved there; but th' other weekA great affliction broke the little ...
Between us leapt a gold and scarlet flame. Into the hollow of the cupped, arched blue Of Heaven it rose. ...
April had covered the hills With flickering yellows and reds, The sparkle and coolness of snow Was blown from the ...
Er-Heb beyond the Hills of Ao-Safai Bears witness to the truth, and Ao-Safai Hath told the men of Gorukh. Thence ...
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods ...
Of all our antic sights and pageantry Which English idiots run in crowds to see, The Polish Medal bears the ...
Under what withering leprous light The very grass as hair is grey, Grass in the cracks of the paven courts ...
I've quenched my lamp, I struck it in that start Which every limb convulsed, I heard it fall The crash ...
I. Your ghost will walk, you lover of trees, (If our loves remain) In an English lane, By a cornfield-side ...
1 BROTHER of all, with generous hand, Of thee, pondering on thee, as o'er thy tomb, I and my Soul, ...
Now Night came down, and rose full soon That patroness of rogues, the Moon; Beneath whose kind protecting ray, Wolves, ...
TO mute and to material things New life revolving summer brings; The genial call dead Nature hears, And in her ...
"And when I come to die," he said, "Ye shall not lay me out in state, Nor leave your laurels ...
Ah me! How hard is destiny! If we could only know. . . . I bought my son from Sicily ...
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