The Elephant Is Slow To Mate (David Herbert Lawrence Poem)
The elephant, the huge old beast, is slow to mate; he finds a female, they show no haste they wait ...
The elephant, the huge old beast, is slow to mate; he finds a female, they show no haste they wait ...
They say the sea is cold, but the sea contains the hottest blood of all, and the wildest, the most ...
1 A yellow band of light upon the street Pours from an open door, and makes a wide Pathway of ...
I thought there would be a grave beauty, a sunset splendour In being the last of one's kind: a topmost ...
Black shadows fall From the lindens tall, That lift aloft their massive wall Against the southern sky; And from the ...
L'eternite est une pendule, dont le balancier dit et redit sans cesse ces deux mots seulement dans le silence des ...
1FROM THE NURSERY When I was born, you waited behind a pile of linen in the nursery, and when we ...
Here is a symbol in which Many high tragic thoughts Watch their own eyes. This gray rock, standing tall On ...
wherever there's a tear in the fabric around weymouth - portland appears from abbotsbury hill it's just a long thin ...
on a deformed request in a train lavatory gentlemen lift the sea be all of you the modern muscular mountains ...
The fox pushes softly, blindly through me at night, between the liver and the stomach. Comes to the heart and ...
Part One As night fell and the light glittered in the great house, the servants stood at the massive door ...
The necks of the ferns the fiddleheads opening like the wings of butterflies the blood making them rigid the ferns ...
In England once there lived a big And wonderfully clever pig. To everybody it was plain That Piggy had a ...
What is left now that we've used the last excuse, what is left to justify excess. The rhetoric at best ...
And you will claim we need more births to keep our population mix in check while nature's truths suggest there ...
I thought of how a whale's white ribs could choke the sky's blue neck, massive vertebrae half-buried in sand, and ...
In memory of Father Flye, 1884-1985 The strange and wonderful are too much with us. The protea of the antipodes-a ...
What is Africa to me: Copper sun or scarlet sea, Jungle star or jungle track, Strong bronzed men, or regal ...
What is she writing? Watch her now, How fast her fingers move ! How eagerly her youthful brow Is bent ...
BUT two miles more, and then we rest ! Well, there is still an hour of day, And long the ...
Her properties, like her of course & frisky & new: a stale cake sold to kids, a 7-foot weed inside ...
Through that window-all else being extinct Except itself and me-I saw the struggle Of darkness against darkness. Within the room ...
1 Senlin sits before us, and we see him. He smokes his pipe before us, and we hear him. Is ...
1 Senlin sits before us, and we see him. He smokes his pipe before us, and we hear him. Is ...
THE SIMPLE Bard, rough at the rustic plough, Learning his tuneful trade from ev'ry bough; The chanting linnet, or the ...
call it the greenhouse effect or whatever but it just doesn't rain like it used to. I particularly remember the ...
Here, passing lonely down this quiet lane, Before a mud-splashed window long I pause To gaze and gaze, while through ...
Fanaticism?No.Writing is exciting and baseball is like writing. You can never tell with either how it will go or what ...
It's wonderful how I jog on four honed-down ivory toes my massive buttocks slipping like oiled parts with each light ...
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