Snow Lies (Aleksandr Ivanovich Vvedensky Poems)
snow liesearth flieslights flipnight walks innight lies on a rug of starsnight how are you spelled?like an inane leversleeps the ...
snow liesearth flieslights flipnight walks innight lies on a rug of starsnight how are you spelled?like an inane leversleeps the ...
Bunny, lying in the grass,Saw the shining column pass;Saw the starry banner fly,Saw the chargers fret and fume,Saw the flapping ...
Down here in Cactus Center we ain't much on splittin' hairs;In the fancy shades of language we are puttin' on ...
The cows stood in a thunder-cloud of fliesAs, lagging through the field with trailing feet,I kicked up scores of skipper ...
When they said the time to hide was mine, ...
II stood at the gate of the cotWhere my darling, with side-glance demure,Would spy, on her trim garden-plot,The busy wild ...
A bird came down the walk:He did not know I saw;He bit an angle-worm in halvesAnd ate the fellow, raw.And ...
"It is the future generation that presses into being by means of these exuberant feelings and supersensible soap bubbles of ...
Can it be the sun descending O'er the level plain of water? Or the Red Swan floating, flying, Wounded by ...
All year the flax-dam festered in the heart Of the townland; green and heavy headed Flax had rotted there, weighted ...
I cannot dance upon my Toes -- No Man instructed me -- But oftentimes, among my mind, A Glee possesseth ...
A Bird came down the Walk -- He did not know I saw -- He bit an Angleworm in halves ...
The Banker's Fate They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care; They pursued it with forks and hope; ...
Dedication Inscribed to a dear Child: in memory of golden summer hours and whispers of a summer sea. Girt with ...
a novel by Richard Brautigan THE COVER FOR TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA The cover for Trout Fishing in America is ...
That dark brown rabbit, lightness in his ears & underneath, gladdened our afternoon munching a crab-'. That rabbit was a ...
You see that porcelain ranged there in the window- Platters and soup-plates done with pale pink rosebuds, And tiny violets, ...
I. He was a Grecian lad, who coming home With pulpy figs and wine from Sicily Stood at his galley's ...
I heard a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts ...
He was an old prospector with a vision bleared and dim. He asked me for a grubstake, and the same ...
We'd left the sea-gulls long behind, And we were almost in mid-ocean; The sky was soft and blue and kind, ...
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