Saturday’s Comings (Ivor Gurney Poems)
The horses of day plunge and are restrainedDawn broadens to quarter height, and the meadow mistsDrift like gauze veilings, the ...
The horses of day plunge and are restrainedDawn broadens to quarter height, and the meadow mistsDrift like gauze veilings, the ...
The first flush of grey light, the herald of daylight,Is dimly outlining the musterer's camp,Where over the sleeping, the stealthily ...
Caleb went, as was his custom, On a quiet Sunday morn,To the house of prayer and worship, Thither by devotion ...
To Frank O'HaraSometimes when my eyes are red I go up on top of the RCA Building ...
I. O wild kaleidoscopic panorama of jaculatory arms and legs. The twisting, twining, turning, tussling, throwing, thrusting, throttling, tugging, thumping, the tightening thews. The tearing of tangled trousers, the jut of giant calves protuberant. The wriggleness, the wormlike, snaky movement and life of it; The insertion of strong men in the mud, the wallowing, the stamping with thick shoes; The rowdyism, and élan, the slugging and scraping, the cowboy Homeric ferocity. (Ah, well kicked, red legs! Hit her up, you muddy little hero, you!) The bleeding noses, the shins, the knuckles abraded: That's the way to make men! Go it, you border ruffians, I like ye.II. Only two sorts of men are any good, I wouldn't give a cotton hat for no other — The Poet and the Plug Ugly. They are picturesque. O, but ain't they? These college chaps, these bouncing fighters from M'Gill and Toronto, Are all right. I must have a fighter, a bully, somewhat of a desperado; Of course, I prefer them raw, uneducated, unspoiled by book rot; I reckon these young fellows, these howling Kickapoos of the puddle, these boys, Have been uneducated to an undemocratic and feudal-aristocratic extent; Lord! how they can kick, though! Another man slugged there!III. Unnumbered festoons of pretty Canadian girls, I salute you; Howl away, you non-playing encouragers of the kickers! Rah, Rah, Rah, Rah, Rah, Rah, M'Gill! Rah, Rah, Rah, Sis, Boom, Toronto! Lusty-throated give it! O, wild, tumultuous, multitudinous shindy. Well, this is the boss; This is worth coming twenty miles to see. Personally, I haven't had so much fun since I was vaccinated. I wonder if the Doctor spectates it. Here is something beyond his plesiosauri. Pure physical glow and exultation this of abundantest muscle: I wish John Sullivan were here.IV. O, the kicking, stamping, punching, the gore and the glory of battle! Kick, kick, kick, kick, kick, kick. Will you kick! You kickers, scoop up the mud, steam plough the field, Fall all over yourselves, squirm out! Look at that pile-driver of a full-back there! Run, leg it, hang on to the ball; say, you big chump, don't you kill that little chap When you are about it. Well, I'd like to know what a touch down is, then? Draw? Where's your draw? Yer lie!(Anonymous Americas)
ON REMOVING FROM HER NATIVE VILLAGE. The golden rays of sunset fall on a snow-clad hill, As standing ...
" Well ! "" Here we are ! "" You call to mind the clown who used to speak, His ...
The golden rays of sunset fall on a snow-clad hill, As standing by my window I gaze there long ...
Peace tries to land in Vietnam,but only after a cautious examination.Day after day, month following month,flutters, runs away, hovers again.If ...
Yet do not thou forsake me now, Poesy, with Peace-together!Ere this last disastrous blowDid lay my struggling fortunes low,In ...
I'm sorry for a fellow if he cannot look and seeIn a grate fire's friendly flaming all the joys which ...
ILet me dream a while; the day is done;Let me drift away in Charon's barge;Moonlight pours upon the Isle of ...
Under silver wing San Francisco's towers sprouting thru thin gas clouds, Tamalpais black-breasted above Pacific azure Berkeley hills pine-covered below-- ...
How do you capture living, changing color the shades of sunset, across the dome, the panorama, the full circle catching ...
Life is simple. In my canoe. Strokes in the water propel me forward. I chart my course around the cove. ...
I In my beginning is my end. In succession Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended, Are removed, destroyed, restored, ...
The smiling face of a happy boy With its enchanted key Is now unlocking in memory My store of heartiest ...
1 A SONG of the good green grass! A song no more of the city streets; A song of farms-a ...
(With much help from Robert Good, William Shakespeare, John Milton, and little Catherine Schwartz) Shall I compare her to a ...
JOHN BROWN'S body under the morning stars. Six feet of dust under the morning stars. And a panorama of war ...
(1) The day she visited the dissecting room They had four men laid out, black as burnt turkey, Already half ...
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