In Camum (E W Bowling Poems)
Ridicula nuper cymba, sicut meus est mos, Flumineas propter salices et murmura Cami, Multa movens mecum, fumo inspirante, iacebam. Illic ...
Ridicula nuper cymba, sicut meus est mos, Flumineas propter salices et murmura Cami, Multa movens mecum, fumo inspirante, iacebam. Illic ...
Let's talk about love, that wonderful thing,Let's blend the scent of Venice with Paris in Spring,Let's gaze at that moon ...
Candidly, I do not hug a Wish to go ...
Marcus Varro went up and down The places where old books were sold;He ransacked all the shops in town For ...
There's a dear little home in Good-Children street -My heart turneth fondly to-dayWhere tinkle of tongues and patter of feetMake ...
Darkness succeeds to twilight: Through lattice and through skylightThe stars no doubt, if one looked out, Might be ...
"enter no(silence is the blood whose fleshis singing)silence:but unsinging. Inspectral such hugest how hush,onedead leaf stirring makes a crash-far away(as ...
)when what hugs stopping earth than silent ismore silent than more than much more is ortotal sun oceaning than any ...
WHEN I came back from Hell Fire PassMinus a leg an' a hand,How glad I was to see green fieldsAfter ...
Close to our savior, our brother feeling the yoke, the weight he carried the cross he bore, for me, for ...
These days, these times, more focused, more centered, fasting, praying, thinking about You about the path you walked, in that ...
Study, prayers, fasting growth through study, meditation through some sacrifice, some meager change some discipline, holy, drawing us closer to ...
Closer, ever closer, drawn to the cross, to the foot of the cross our savior's burden his suffering, his sacrifice ...
There's a dear little home in Good-Children street - My heart turneth fondly to-day Where tinkle of tongues and patter ...
SANDBOX MINUS JOHN DILLINGER EQUALS WHAT? Often I return to the cover of Trout Fishing in America. I took the ...
A Letter To My Aunt Discussing The Correct Approach To Modern Poetry To you, my aunt, who would explore The ...
'A ticket for the lottery I've purchased every week,' said she 'For years a score Though desperately poor am I, ...
The poppies gleamed like bloody pools through cotton-woolly mist; The Captain kept a-lookin' at the watch upon his wrist; And ...
She's passing fair; but so demure is she, So quiet is her gown, so smooth her hair, That few there ...
To Jena Woodhouse This way of minutes miserably mixed With their own blinks misunderstood By birds and trees, this eye-born ...
Quid facis Arctoi charissime transfuga coeli, Ingele, proh sero cognite, rapte cito? Num satis Hybernum defendis pellibus Astrum, Qui modo ...
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