The Fisherwoman (Ivan Bunin Poems)
"Who knocks? I won't get up. I will not openThe spray-soaked door of this old hut. How chillAnd how uneasy ...
"Who knocks? I won't get up. I will not openThe spray-soaked door of this old hut. How chillAnd how uneasy ...
March! And the brook still ice-bound,And grass all brown and grey.From a leafless tree comes a rasping sound,The cry of ...
Setting a trotline after sundownif we went far enough away in the nightsometimes up out of deep waterwould come a ...
Fytte IBy Wood and Wold"Beneath the greenwood bough." — W. Scott.Lightly the breath of the spring wind blows, Though ...
Felicity! Who ope'st to none that knocks, yet, laughing weak, ...
"THEY had brought in such sheafs of hair, And flung them all about us there In the loud noonday's heat ...
I had ridden over hurdles up the country once or twice,By the side of Snowy River with a horse they ...
Beneath my window in a city street A monster lairs, a creature huge and grim And only half believed: the ...
A GROAN from a dim-lit upper room -A stealthy step on the stairs in the gloom -A hurried glance to ...
Crossing the infinite length of the moorland,Here comes the wind,The wind with his trumpet that Heralds November;Endless and infinite, crossing ...
On the far hill the cloud of thunder grew And sunlight blurred below; but sultry blue ...
Amid the sound of picks to-day, And shovels rasping on the rail,A sweet voice came from far away, From out ...
Beneath yon fir trees in the west, The sunset round it glowing, A cottage lies like bird on nest, ...
Between my finger and my thumb The squat pin rest; snug as a gun. Under my window, a clean rasping ...
(1) and off to scott's (the dockers' restaurant) burly men packed in round solid tables but what the helle (drowned ...
Remote and ineffectual Don That dared attack my Chesterton, With that poor weapon, half-impelled, Unlearnt, unsteady, hardly held, Unworthy for ...
One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound ...
'Twas in the bleary middle of the hard-boiled Arctic night, I was lonesome as a loon, so if you can, ...
The red globe of light, the liquor green, the pulsing arrows and the running fire spilt on the stones, go ...
on someone else's place it seems to him the land slings distance way out the dirt is dead and the ...
Roar of the rushing train fearfully rocking, Impatient people jammed in line for food, The rasping noise of cars together ...
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