The Hunting Of The Snark (Lewis Carroll Poem)
Dedication Inscribed to a dear Child: in memory of golden summer hours and whispers of a summer sea. Girt with ...
Dedication Inscribed to a dear Child: in memory of golden summer hours and whispers of a summer sea. Girt with ...
There is a child I used to know who sat, perhaps, at this same desk where you sit now, and ...
You came to me as rain breaks on the desert when every flower springs to life at once, but joy ...
Poetry, I found you where at last they chained and bound you; with devices all around you to torture and ...
A ROSE, as fair as ever saw the North, Grew in a little garden all alone; A sweeter flower did ...
The only thing I miss about Los Angeles is the Hollywood Freeway at midnight, windows down and radio blaring bearing ...
I have slept upon my couch, But my spirit did not rest, For the labours of the day Yet my ...
'The mist is resting on the hill; The smoke is hanging in the air; The very clouds are standing still: ...
1 They that in play can do the thing they would, Having an instinct throned in reason's place, --And every ...
I have lain in the sun I have toil'd as I might, I have thought as I would, And now ...
I know it's a bad title but I'm giving it to myself as a gift on a day nearly canceled ...
Oh! could I hope the wise and pure in heart Might hear my song without a frown, nor deem My ...
Stranger, if thou hast learned a truth which needs No school of long experience, that the world Is full of ...
The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, And spread the ...
I. The poem is important, but not more than the people whose survival it serves, one of the necessities, so ...
Proem. 1.1 Although great Queen, thou now in silence lie, 1.2 Yet thy loud Herald Fame, doth to the sky ...
I had eight birds hatched in one nest, Four cocks there were, and hens the rest. I nursed them up ...
Nothing was remembered, nothing forgotten. When we awoke, wagons were passing on the warm summer pavements, The window-sills were wet ...
Flesh is heretic. My body is a witch. I am burning it. Yes I am torching ber curves and paps ...
a novel by Richard Brautigan THE COVER FOR TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA The cover for Trout Fishing in America is ...
THE HUNCHBACK TROUT The creek was made narrow by little green trees that grew too close together. The creek was ...
SEA, SEA RIDER The man who owned the bookstore was not magic. He was not a three-legged crow on the ...
'Twas after dread Pultowa's day, When fortune left the royal Swede - Around a slaughtered army lay, No more to ...
"Had we never loved so kindly, Had we never loved so blindly, Never met or never parted, We had ne'er ...
I chanced upon a new book yesterday; I opened it, and, where my finger lay 'Twixt page and uncut page, ...
Karshish, the picker-up of learning's crumbs, The not-incurious in God's handiwork (This man's-flesh he hath admirably made, Blown like a ...
Si credere dignum est.--Virgil, Georgics, III, 390 Oh, worthy of belief I hold it was, Virgil, your legend in those ...
I. The morn when first it thunders in March, The eel in the pond gives a leap, they say: As ...
I am poor brother Lippo, by your leave! You need not clap your torches to my face. Zooks, what's to ...
All June I bound the rose in sheaves. Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves And strew them where ...
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