A Fit of Rhyme against Rhyme (Ben Jonson Poem)
Rhyme, the rack of finest wits, That expresseth but by fits True conceit, Spoiling senses of their treasure, Cozening judgment ...
Rhyme, the rack of finest wits, That expresseth but by fits True conceit, Spoiling senses of their treasure, Cozening judgment ...
After Joseph Roth Parce que c'était lui; parce que c'était moi. Montaigne, De L'amitië The dream's forfeit was a night ...
I was born in 1902 I never once went back to my birthplace I don't like to turn back at ...
(service resettlement courses at studio fronceri - west wales) and the swords came in their varying degrees of shininess and ...
(1) the ordinary you are not interested in me a receiver of food and a giver of shit my brain ...
I hardly remember your voice, but the pain of you floats in some remote current of my blood. I carry ...
I hardly remember your voice, but the pain of you floats in some remote current of my blood. I carry ...
Like no plane of man the heavenly whirlwind lifting him up leaving the earth What it must have been like ...
The one song of Christ sung with different voices over the centuries across the face of the earth in diverse ...
The many voices speaking loudly the disciples speaking many languages Drawing the diaspora from all the nations coming together to ...
We all come together across time and space one choir forming responding to his grace Singing together many languages and ...
In tongues unknown, in other tongues they spoke a single message of hope, of love of the saving by grace, ...
Prayers for peace rose up in many tongues from the congregation gathered round a new pole hewn by parishioner hands ...
the people are very small and shrink, dwarves on the way to netsuke hell bound for a flea circus in ...
In a blue series towards his sleepy eyes they slid like wonder, women tall & small, of every shape & ...
Let Elizur rejoice with the Partridge, who is a prisoner of state and is proud of his keepers. Let Shedeur ...
(Bergen)SEVEN days all fog, all mist, and the turbines pounding through high seas. I was a plaything, a rat's neck ...
NOTE.-The following imaginary dialogue between Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr, which is not based upon any specific incident in American ...
to Robert Hass and in memory of Elliot Gilbert Slow dulcimer, gavotte and bow, in autumn, Bashõ and his friends ...
Releas'd from the noise of the butcher and baker Who, my old friends be thanked, did seldom forsake her, And ...
This institution, perhaps one should say enterprise out of respect for which one says one need not change one's mind ...
The last of day gathers in the yellow parlor and drifts like fine dust across the face of the gilt-framed ...
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