The Candidate (George Crabbe Poems)
A POETICAL EPISTLE TO THE AUTHORS OF THE MONTHLY REVIEW.AN INTRODUCTORY ADDRESS OF THE AUTHOR TO HIS POEMS.Ye idler things, ...
A POETICAL EPISTLE TO THE AUTHORS OF THE MONTHLY REVIEW.AN INTRODUCTORY ADDRESS OF THE AUTHOR TO HIS POEMS.Ye idler things, ...
OR THE FLOWER OF THE WILDERNESS. Here, on the arid ridge Of dead Vesuvius, Exterminator terrible, That by no other ...
AT last they met, once, twice, and many times, Until she knew the secret of his being, That essence which ...
I VERSE a Settler's Tale of the old times,-One told me by our friend, the kindly sage,Old Egremont, who then ...
The mighty spirit, and its power, which stainsThe bloodless cheek, and vivifies the brains,I sing. Say, ye, its fiery vot'ries ...
On her bed of protracted and lingering sickness. ONCE again, long silent lyre,Sound beneath this weary finger,Speak--but breathe with holy ...
Oh! I am sick of what I am. Of allWhich I in life can ever hope to be.Angels of light ...
FROM 'DIE HEIMKEHR'IIs your hate, then, of such measure?Do you, truly, so detest me?Through all the world will I complainOf ...
Stalingrad...After Madrid and London, there are still great cities.The world hasn't ended, for amidst the ruinsother men appear, the faces ...
too much too little too fattoo thinor nobody. laughter ortears haterslovers strangers with faces likethe backs ofthumb tacks armies running ...
To Erik LindegrenYou picked up the planet like an eggand set it spinningin slow motion on the floor of the ...
In that timeWhen civilization struck with insultsWhen holy water struck domesticated browsThe vultures built in the shadow of their clawsThe ...
Killed a gopherin my garden.Split itwith a shovel.First I cutonly a leg.Could have stoppedthere, buta mutilated gophercan turn usinto what ...
this fear of being what they are:dead. at least they are not out on the street, theyare careful to stay ...
While the sun stops, or seems to, to define a term for the indeterminable, the human aspect, here in the ...
Thou know'st my praise of nature most sincere, And that my raptures are not conjur'd up To serve occasions of ...
Behold I bring you tidings of great joyâ?" especially now that the snow & gale are stillâ?" for Henry is ...
(To Marcel Schwob in friendship and in admiration) In a dim corner of my room for longer than my fancy ...
1 AFTER all, not to create only, or found only, But to bring, perhaps from afar, what is already founded, ...
Earth, Ocean, Air, belovèd brotherhood! If our great Mother has imbued my soul With aught of natural piety to feel ...
Tiny green birds skate over the surface of the room. A naked girl prepares a basin with steaming water, And ...
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