Po?me (?crit pendant la guerre) (Eugene Dabit Poems)
J'ai ?t? soldat ? dix-huit ansQuelle mis?reDe faire la guerreQuand on est un enfant.De vivre dans un trouContre terrePoursuivi comme ...
J'ai ?t? soldat ? dix-huit ansQuelle mis?reDe faire la guerreQuand on est un enfant.De vivre dans un trouContre terrePoursuivi comme ...
Je t'indique le fruit qui m'a rendu malade; Je te crie en quel lieu, sous la route, est cach? Un ...
ON SEEING THE BUST OF THE YOUNG PRINCESS DE MONTFORT(In the studio of Bartolini, at Florence).SWEET marble I didst thou ...
YE who received me, when your hearts were sore, With double welcome, since I came in lieu Of one whose ...
IF that sad creed which honest men and true Are flouting in the cheerful face of Day, Are teaching in ...
Dear Bessie, would my tired rhyme Had force to rise from apathy, And shaking off its lethargy Ring word-tones like ...
The eldest son bestrides him, And the pretty daughter rides him, And I meet him oft o' mornings on the ...
When will you ever, Peace, wild wooddove, shy wings shut, Your round me roaming end, and under be my boughs? ...
You may vow I'll not forget To pay the debt Which to thy memory stands as due As faith can ...
A CERTAIN pious rector (John his name), But little preached, except when vintage came; And then no preparation he required ...
Christmass is come and every hearth Makes room to give him welcome now Een want will dry its tears in ...
'Twas after dread Pultowa's day, When fortune left the royal Swede - Around a slaughtered army lay, No more to ...
Pellam the King, who held and lost with Lot In that first war, and had his realm restored But rendered ...
Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood Had made mock-knight of Arthur's Table Round, At Camelot, high above the ...
Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood Had made mock-knight of Arthur's Table Round, At Camelot, high above the ...
Morn in the wake of the morning star Came furrowing all the orient into gold. We rose, and each by ...
YE learned sisters, which have oftentimes Beene to me ayding, others to adorne, Whom ye thought worthy of your gracefull ...
Ah whither, Love, wilt thou now carry me? What wontless fury dost thou now inspire Into my feeble breast, too ...
SOng made in lieu of many ornaments, With which my loue should duly haue bene dect, Which cutting off through ...
AH whither, Love, wilt thou now carry me? What wontless fury dost thou now inspire Into my feeble breast, too ...
The solitary huntsman No coat of pink doth wear, But midnight black from cap to spur Upon his midnight mare. ...
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