King (Edgar Albert Guest Poems)
(Seing an attempt to write it as Tom Daly might do) GIUSEPPE TOMASSI ees stylisha chap, He wear da white ...
(Seing an attempt to write it as Tom Daly might do) GIUSEPPE TOMASSI ees stylisha chap, He wear da white ...
An image of my grandmotherher head appearing upside-down upon a cloudthe cloud transfixed on the steepleof a deserted railway-stationfar awayAn ...
When I was born, a crooked angel,the kind who live in shadows,said: Go, Carlos! Be gauche in life.The houses spy ...
She does not mind a good cigar (The kind, that is, I smoke);She thinks all men quite stupid are, (But ...
Born with a monocle he stares at life,And sends his soul on pensive promenades;He pays a high price for discarded ...
-he's a dandy-small moustache-usually sucking on a cigarhe tends to lean into cars as hetransacts businessfirst time I met him, ...
The moustache of Adolf Hitlercould hardly be littler,was the thought that kept recurringTo Field-Marshal Goering.(Edmund Clerihew Bentley)
Now what in the name of the sun and the stars Is the meaning of this most unholy of wars? ...
It was somewhere in September, and the sun was going down, When I came, in search of `copy', to a ...
It chanced upon the very day we'd got the shearing done, A buggy brought a stranger to the West-o'-Sunday Run; ...
My mother never forgave my father for killing himself, especially at such an awkward time and in a public park, ...
Crossing the frontier they were stopped in time, Told, quite politely, they would have to wait: Passports in order, nothing ...
Botticelli grinned with egg tempera congealed at the hinge of his lips Velasquez licked shine from an aubergine blackened in ...
She does not mind a good cigar (The kind, that is, I smoke); She thinks all men quite stupid are, ...
I. My heart sank with our Claret-flask, Just now, beneath the heavy sedges That serve this Pond's black face for ...
Half squatter, half tenant (no rent)- a sort of inheritance; white, in your thirties now, and supposed to supply me ...
He had the grocer's counter-stoop, That little man so grey and neat; His moustache had a doleful droop, He hailed ...
The harridan who holds the inn At which I toss a pot, Is old and uglier than sin,-- I'm glad ...
A pair of blackbirds warring in the roses, one or two poppies losing their heads, the trampled lawn a battlefield ...
How neatly a cat sleeps, Sleeps with its paws and its posture, Sleeps with its wicked claws, And with its ...
When my moustache curled, And my hair was black, And I wore tight trousers And a diamond stud, I was ...
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