Hell! (Raymond Queneau Poems)
To drift with every peacock till my souvenirIs a stringed lyre on which all wiseacres can play,Is it for this ...
To drift with every peacock till my souvenirIs a stringed lyre on which all wiseacres can play,Is it for this ...
The column winds on snake-like,Through blistering, treeless spaces;The hovering gray-black dust cloudsTint in ghoulish shades our faces. The sweat of ...
I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; "Good speed!" cried ...
'Twas in the year of 1746, on a fine summer afternoon, When trees and flowers were in full bloom, That ...
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