Wassail Song (E J Rupert Atkinson Poems)
A WORLD for laughter, thisLive earth-abyss IAround the glad gods sitAnd gloat on it,While tottering men dare tread,Tiptoe among the ...
A WORLD for laughter, thisLive earth-abyss IAround the glad gods sitAnd gloat on it,While tottering men dare tread,Tiptoe among the ...
you being in lovewill tell who softly asks in love,am i separated from your body smile brain hands merelyto become ...
I heard an Eagle crying all aloneAbove the vineyards through the summer night,Among the skeletons of robber towers:Because the ancient ...
Now the puppets are real human beingsTwenty four hours their dance is on,There's no stage, but very intimatelyInside and outside; ...
Shadow puppets on the wall. Dark carbon copies of what a furnished room bares. Into a black covered mirror, my ...
While the far farewell music thins and fails, And the broad bottoms rip the bearing brine - All smalling slowly ...
A mason came forth and said, "Speak to us of Houses." And he answered and said: Build of your imaginings ...
Glassmakers, at century's end, compounded metallic lusters in reference to natural sheens (dragonfly and beetle wings, marbled light on kerosene) ...
Melissa: I've still rever'd your Order as Divine; And when I see unblemish'd Virtue ...
Under what withering leprous light The very grass as hair is grey, Grass in the cracks of the paven courts ...
To Kathleen- Nor I can give, nor you can take; endures The simple truth of me that is yours. Is ...
To Kathleen- Nor I can give, nor you can take; endures The simple truth of me that is yours. Is ...
'Tis true, Idoloclastes Satyrane ! (So call him, for so mingling blame with praise, And smiles with anxious looks, his ...
NO more wine? then we'll push back chairs and talk. A final glass for me, though: cool, i' faith! We ...
Since all that is was ever bound to be; Since grim, eternal laws our Being bind; And both the riddle ...
O trees of life, oh, what when winter comes? We are not of one mind. Are not like birds in ...
You are a friend then, as I make it out, Of our man Shakespeare, who alone of us Will put ...
Earth no longer hymns the Creator, the seven days of wonder, the Garden is over - all the stories are ...
Lo! 'tis a gala night Within the lonesome latter years. An angel throng, bewinged, bedight In veils, and drowned in ...
To Jena Woodhouse This way of minutes miserably mixed With their own blinks misunderstood By birds and trees, this eye-born ...
Who now will praise the Wizard in the street With loyal songs, with humors grave and ...
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