Sestina (Dante Alighieri Poem)
I have come, alas, to the great circle of shadow, to the short day and to the whitening hills, when ...
I have come, alas, to the great circle of shadow, to the short day and to the whitening hills, when ...
Per me si va ne la citt? dolente, per me si va ne l'etterno dolore, per me si va tra ...
Fall's leaves are redder than spring's flowers, have no pollen, and also sometimes fly, as the wind schools them out ...
I know if I find you I will have to leave the earth and go on out over the sea ...
After yesterday afternoon's blue clouds and white rain the mockingbird in the backyard untied the drops from leaves and twigs ...
Far from the Rappahannock, the silent Danube moves along toward the sea. The brown and green Nile rolls slowly Like ...
As Parmigianino did it, the right hand Bigger than the head, thrust at the viewer And swerving easily away, as ...
Something strange is creeping across me. La Celestina has only to warble the first few bars Of "I Thought about ...
A man doesn't have time in his life to have time for everything. He doesn't have seasons enough to have ...
IS it so small a thing To have enjoy'd the sun, To have lived light in the spring, To have ...
Coldly, sadly descends The autumn-evening. The field Strewn with its dank yellow drifts Of wither'd leaves, and the elms, Fade ...
Hark! ah, the nightingale- The tawny-throated! Hark, from that moonlit cedar what a burst! What triumph! hark!-what pain! O wanderer ...
Come, dear children, let us away; Down and away below! Now my brothers call from the bay, Now the great ...
Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill; Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes! No longer leave thy ...
More and more frequently the edges of me dissolve and I become a wish to assimilate the world, including you, ...
I would like to watch you sleeping, which may not happen. I would like to watch you, sleeping. I would ...
All those times I was bored out of my mind. Holding the log while he sawed it. Holding the string ...
We, unaccustomed to courage exiles from delight live coiled in shells of loneliness until love leaves its high holy temple ...
Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory— Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken. ...
Simple things are lovely things. Rain, dropping from the eaves, Is molten silver streaming down, Upon the fallen leaves. The ...
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I ...
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