The Muddy Tongue (Edvard Lembcke Poems)
Our muddy tongue is frightful, it has so foul a sound.With what shall I compare it, in song can praise ...
Our muddy tongue is frightful, it has so foul a sound.With what shall I compare it, in song can praise ...
OH, but life went gaily, gaily,In the house of Idiedaily!There were always throats to singDown the river-banks with spring,When the ...
Who now enters here,With his locks at the sere,And a face like a boy?Winter full of joy,Young heart and old ...
Keys turningrattling in the loose locks opening high the doorsthat close againlike death-hours coming fasterthe walls are whiteand the line ...
Storm and wave their tumult cease.See, the heav'nly galaxies,Fainter, even dimmerIs their golden glimmerAs the morningSoftly dawningOf the sun's wan ...
Angelic minds, they say, by simple intelligence Behold the Forms of nature. They discern Unerringly the Archtypes, all the verities ...
I eat oatmeal for breakfast. I make it on the hot plate and put skimmed milk on it. I eat ...
When the swans turned my sister into a swan I would go to the lake, at night, from milking: The ...
I rose to ask a question feeling unsure, a bit ill at ease like Bob Cratchett asking for coal or ...
Out of the woods by the creek cometh a calling for Peter, And from the orchard a voice echoes and ...
I cannot eat my porridge, I weary of my play; No longer can I sleep at night, No longer romp ...
In pious times, ere priest-craft did begin, Before polygamy was made a sin; When man, on many, multipli'd his kind, ...
I. Stand still, true poet that you are! I know you; let me try and draw you. Some night you'll ...
The rest of us watch from beyond the fence as the woman moves with her jagged stride into her pain ...
I often wonder how Life clicks because They don't make women now Like Mammy was. When broods of two or ...
In Wall Street once a potent power, And now a multi-millionaire Alone within a shady bower In clothes his valet ...
A barefoot boy I went to school To save a cobbler's fee, For though the porridge pot was full A ...
Oh how I'd be gay and glad If a little house I had, Snuggled in a shady lot, With behind ...
A life hauls itself uphill through hoar-mist steaming the sun's tongue licking leaf upon leaf into stricken liquid When? When? ...
In the middle of our porridge plates There was a blue butterfly painted And each morning we tried who should ...
Why is there no monument To Porridge in our land? It it's good enough to eat, It's good enough to ...
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