Puella Mea (E. E. Cummings Poems)
Harun Omar and Master Hafiz keep your dead beautiful ladies. Mine is a little lovelier than any of your ladies ...
Harun Omar and Master Hafiz keep your dead beautiful ladies. Mine is a little lovelier than any of your ladies ...
A Dramatic Lyric. A BACHELOR of common type, I sit me down before the fire And take my after-dinner pipe, ...
(Compiled by the Sentimental Bloke)I ain't no verse-'og. When I busts in song An' fills the air wiv choonful melerdy,I ...
READING in Omar till the thoughts that burnedUpon his pages seemed to be inurnedWithin me in a silent fire, my ...
Was it of wine and all its purple glow,Or roses when the seasons bade them blow, That Omar Khayyam, he ...
Aw, I'm sick o' the whole darn human race, An' I'm sick o' this mundane ball;I'm sick o' the sight ...
Archaeologists have discovered a love-letter among the ruins of Babylon. -- Newspaper report.The world hath just one tale to tell, ...
(At a Dinner of the Omar Khayyam Club.) "Draw nigh the Board " one came to me and said ' ...
No rose that in a garden ever grew,In Homer's or in Omar's or in mine,Though buried under centuries of fineDead ...
Meadows with yellow cowslips all aglow,Glory of sunshine on the uplands bare,And faint and far, with sweet elusive flow,The Wood-dove's ...
Translated From the Persian of Omar Khayyam (eleventh century).See you have dancers and wine and a girl like one of ...
I thank thee, Earth, for water good,The sea's great bath of buoyant greenOr the cold mountain torrent's flood,That I may ...
"Thou shalt be--Nothing."--Omar Khayyam. "Tombless, with no remembrance."--W. Shakespeare. Dead shalt thou lie; and nought Be told of thee or ...
I never dreamed we'd meet that day In our old haunts down Fricourt way, Plotting such marvellous journeys there For ...
OLD FITZ, who from your suburb grange, Where once I tarried for a while, Glance at the wheeling orb of ...
I like to think that when I fall, A rain-drop in Death's shoreless sea, This shelf of books along the ...
FACES of two eternities keep looking at me. One is Omar Khayam and the red stuff wherein men forget yesterday ...
No rose that in a garden ever grew, In Homer's or in Omar's or in mine, Though buried under centuries ...
Inscribed to the Memory of John Keats. Dear uplands, Chester's favorable fields, My large unjealous Loves, many yet one -- ...
Death, thou'rt a cordial old and rare: Look how compounded, with what care! Time got his wrinkles reaping thee Sweet ...
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