Aforetime (Thomas Sturge Moore Poems)
Dear exile from the hurrying crowd,At work I muse to you aloud;Thought on my anvil softens, glows,And I forget our ...
Dear exile from the hurrying crowd,At work I muse to you aloud;Thought on my anvil softens, glows,And I forget our ...
Freedom, thy son is dead!Once more the solemn treadOf the long, slow cortege echoes to throbsOf a nation's heart, and ...
For Carl Solomon I I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves ...
As we slide into the 3rd world we have created, running from hurricanes, with our SS# indelibly inked on our ...
Morning again, nothing has to be done, maybe buy a piano or make fudge. At least clean the room up ...
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