The Bronze David Of Donatello (Randall Jarrell Poems)
A sword in his right hand, a stone in his left hand,He is naked. Shod and naked. Hatted and naked.The ...
A sword in his right hand, a stone in his left hand,He is naked. Shod and naked. Hatted and naked.The ...
The memory of you emerges from the night around me.The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea.Deserted like the ...
A rooster once pursued a worm That lingered not to brave him, To see his wretched victim squirm A pleasant thrill it gave ...
Freres humains qui apres nous vivez,N'ayez les coeurs contre nous endurcis ...Men, brother men, that after us yet live,Let not ...
Round Rajagriha five fair hills arose,Guarding King Bimbas?ra's sylvan town:Baibh?ra green with lemon-grass and palms;Bipulla, at whose foot thin SarsutiSteals ...
Home, Sweet Home. I'm a Bedfordshire Chap, and Bill Stumps is my name, And to tell it don't give me ...
Once on a time, a party by the name of Mr. BULLDiscovered that with many schemes his hands were pretty ...
I.Beneath the vans of doom did men pass in.Heroic who came out; for round them hungA wavering phantom's red volcano ...
Christopher Davis was up upon Mavis And Sammy MacGregor on Flo, Jo Chauncy rode Spider, the rankest outsider, But HE'D ...
You always read about it:the plumber with the twelve childrenwho wins the Irish Sweepstakes.From toilets to riches.That story.Or the nursemaid,some ...
Beside Missouri's swelling wavesAn Indian maiden knelt,And gazed across the shadowed stream,And through the forest's belt;And while the leaves about ...
Brothers and men that shall after us be,Let not your hearts be hard to us:For pitying this our miseryYe shall ...
The woodpecker pecked out a little round hole ...
What say you, critic, now you have becomeAn author and maternal?--in this trap(To quote you) of poor hollow folk who ...
I. If It be pleasant to look on, stalled in the packed serai, Does not the Young Man try Its ...
Florida An Airedale rolling through green frost, cabbage palms pointing their accusing leaves at whom, petulant waves breaking at my ...
Freres humains qui apres nous vivez, N'ayez les coeurs contre nous endurcis ... Men, brother men, that after us yet ...
You always read about it: the plumber with the twelve children who wins the Irish Sweepstakes. From toilets to riches. ...
A bonny bird I found today Mired in a melt of tar; Its silky breast was silver-grey, Its wings were ...
I tell my secret? No indeed, not I: Perhaps some day, who knows? But not today; it froze, and blows, ...
The memory of you emerges from the night around me. The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea. Deserted ...
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