The Bagman’s Dog, : Mr. Peters’s Story (Richard Harris Barham Poems)
Stant littore Puppies!-- Virgil.It was a litter, a litter of five,Four are drown'd and one left alive,He was thought worthy ...
Stant littore Puppies!-- Virgil.It was a litter, a litter of five,Four are drown'd and one left alive,He was thought worthy ...
'Tis a queer, old battered landmark that belongs to other years;With the dog-leg fence around it, and its hat about ...
Through the bound cable strands, the arching pathUpward, veering with light, the flight of strings,-Taut miles of shuttling moonlight syncopateThe ...
Henley, June 7, 1891. Shall we, to whom the stream by right belongs, Who travel silent, save, perchance, for songs; Whose track's a ripple,—leaves the Thames a lake, Nor frights the swan—scarce makes the rushes shake; Who harmonize, exemplify, complete And vivify a scene already sweet: Who travel careless on, from lock to lock, Oblivious that the world contains a clock, With pace commensurate to our desires, Propelled by other force than Stygian fire's; Shall we be driven hence to leave a place For these, who bring upon our stream disgrace: The rush, the roar, the stench, the smoke, the steam, The nightmare striking through our heavenly dream; The scream as shrill and hateful to the ear As when a peacock vents his rage and fear; Which churn to fury all a glassy reach, And heave rude breakers on a pebbly beach: Which half o'erwhelm with waves our frailer craft, While graceless shop-boys chuckle fore and aft: Foul water-toadstools, noisome filth-stained shapes, Fit only to be manned by dogs and apes: Blots upon nature: scars that mar her smile: Obscene, obtrusive, execrable, vile? (James Kenneth Stephen)
Last night the full moon laid a cloth of white Within my window, spread upon my bed, And, with her ...
So, at last, we will cross.Our season presupposes continents, landsof desire. We tosslike unloved baggage where we stand,and slowly the ...
Thou, run to the dry on this wayside bank,Too plainly of all the propellers bereft!Quenched youth, and is that thy ...
Days, when the ball of our visionHad eagles that flew unabashed to sun;When the grasp on the bow was decision,And ...
Delicate mother Kangaroo Sitting up there rabbit-wise, but huge, plump-weighted, And lifting her beautiful slender face, oh! so much more ...
I saw him stand, a Polar man, Cold anger in his frigid eye,Facing it wild, unruly clan Who poised their ...
i have lost touch over the years with the hot africa inside me illness and all - i spread to ...
She was running this morning early Sunday morning while we drove by on the way to church black top, black ...
The oak leaf freshly fallen dry against the wet payment caught where it fitfully was perched before being grasped, propelled ...
my mother pushed my sister out of the apartment door with an empty suitcase because she kept threatening to run ...
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