White Horses (Rudyard Kipling Poem)
Where run your colts at pasture? Where hide your mares to breed? 'Mid bergs about the Ice-cap Or wove Sargasso ...
Where run your colts at pasture? Where hide your mares to breed? 'Mid bergs about the Ice-cap Or wove Sargasso ...
Er-Heb beyond the Hills of Ao-Safai Bears witness to the truth, and Ao-Safai Hath told the men of Gorukh. Thence ...
Rome never looks where she treads. Always her heavy hooves fall On our stomachs, our hearts or our heads; And ...
The forest bitter, spiky, no shore breeze, no foothills, the grass grows matted, death will come with horses' hooves, endlessly ...
Mythological creatures like the sphinx and the unicorn we saw jungle ponies in the clouds stampeding across the sky as ...
I put two yellow peepers in an owl. Wow. I fix the grin of Crocodile. Spiv. I sew the slither ...
It happened by Bretton Wood (although that wasn't it's real name) and I recall a clear, grey dawn and the ...
Now, when the moon slid under the cloud And the cold clear dark of starlight fell, He heard in his ...
I. (Bread and Music) Music I heard with you was more than music, And bread I broke with you was ...
You thought I was that type: That you could forget me, And that I'd plead and weep And throw myself ...
Part I On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and ...
In the naked bed, in Plato's cave, Reflected headlights slowly slid the wall, Carpenters hammered under the shaded window, Wind ...
A Poem for Three Voices Setting: A Maternity Ward and round about FIRST VOICE: I am slow as the world. ...
They enter as animals from the outer Space of holly where spikes Are not thoughts I turn on, like a ...
All summer we moved in a villa brimful of echos, Cool as the pearled interior of a conch. Bells, hooves, ...
for Ruth Fainlight I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root; It is what ...
The hills step off into whiteness. People or stars Regard me sadly, I disappoint them. The train leaves a line ...
Us all on sore cement was we. Not warmed then with glares. Not glutting mush under that pole the lightning's ...
Even as we speak, there's a smoker's cough from behind the whitethorn hedge: we stop dead in our tracks; a ...
After two sittings, now our Lady State To end her picture does the third time wait. But ere thou fall'st ...
Whereas at morning in a Jeweled Crown I bit my fingers and was hard to please, Having shook disaster till ...
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