Into the Dusk-Charged Air (John Ashbery Poem)
Far from the Rappahannock, the silent Danube moves along toward the sea. The brown and green Nile rolls slowly Like ...
Far from the Rappahannock, the silent Danube moves along toward the sea. The brown and green Nile rolls slowly Like ...
The first of the undecoded messages read: "Popeye sits in thunder, Unthought of. From that shoebox of an apartment, From ...
Kind of empty in the way it sees everything, the earth gets to its feet andsalutes the sky. More of ...
I taught myself to live simply and wisely, to look at the sky and pray to God, and to wander ...
I hear the oriole's always-grieving voice, And the rich summer's welcome loss I hear In the sickle's serpentine hiss Cutting ...
And the stone word fell On my still-living breast. Never mind, I was ready. I will manage somehow. Today I ...
Not under foreign skies Nor under foreign wings protected - I shared all this with my own people There, where ...
Do not accept these rains that come too late. Better to linger. Make your pain An image of the desert. ...
All night the army came up from Gilgal To get to the killing field, and that's all. In the ground, ...
The end was quick and bitter. Slow and sweet was the time between us, slow and sweet were the nights ...
"What kind of a person are you," I heard them say to me. I'm a person with a complex plumbing ...
'Not by the justice that my father spurn'd, Not for the thousands whom my father slew, Altars unfed and temples ...
Far, far from here, The Adriatic breaks in a warm bay Among the green Illyrian hills; and there The sunshine ...
Glion?--Ah, twenty years, it cuts All meaning from a name! White houses prank where once were huts. Glion, but not ...
God knows it, I am with you. If to prize Those virtues, priz'd and practis'd by too few, But priz'd, ...
1 Faster, faster, 2 O Circe, Goddess, 3 Let the wild, thronging train 4 The bright procession 5 Of eddying ...
How changed is here each spot man makes or fills! In the two Hinkseys nothing keeps the same; The village ...
The Youth Faster, faster, O Circe, Goddess, Let the wild, thronging train The bright procession Of eddying forms, Sweep through ...
We cannot kindle when we will The fire which in the heart resides; The spirit bloweth and is still, In ...
Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet, Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet! I feel a nameless ...
Weary of myself, and sick of asking What I am, and what I ought to be, At this vessel's prow ...
Coldly, sadly descends The autumn-evening. The field Strewn with its dank yellow drifts Of wither'd leaves, and the elms, Fade ...
Through Alpine meadows soft-suffused With rain, where thick the crocus blows, Past the dark forges long disused, The mule-track from ...
Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet, Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet! I feel a nameless ...
And the first grey of morning fill'd the east, And the fog rose out of the Oxus stream. But all ...
Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Greece, Long since, saw Byron's struggle cease. But one such death remain'd to come; The ...
'Twas August, and the fierce sun overhead Smote on the squalid streets of Bethnal Green, And the pale weaver, through ...
Come, dear children, let us away; Down and away below! Now my brothers call from the bay, Now the great ...
Creep into thy narrow bed, Creep, and let no more be said! Vain thy onset! all stands fast. Thou thyself ...
Who prop, thou ask'st in these bad days, my mind?-- He much, the old man, who, clearest-souled of men, Saw ...
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