The Shooting Of Dan McGrew (Billy Bennett Poems)
A bunch of the boys were whooping it upIn the Malamute Saloon; An American guy from Peckham Rye Was playing ...
A bunch of the boys were whooping it upIn the Malamute Saloon; An American guy from Peckham Rye Was playing ...
Come, I'll show you a country that none can surpass, For a flyer to cross like a bird on the ...
"Who are the banded? Gather from the fourBroad winds one hundred strangers varyingIn tongue, age, disposition; set them downOn the ...
Original Urdu tum jo naa aa'e the to har chiiz vahii thii kih jo haiaasmaaN hadd-e-nazar, raahguzar raahguzar, shiishaah-e-mai,shiishaah-e-maiaur ab ...
We're hiking along at a two-forty pace We 're making life seem like a man-killing race,With our nerves all on ...
It's little I care what path I take, And where it leads it's little I care; But ...
Tho' we seem to reach the turningAnd the Government is yearning To brings us swift releif, and make a cutIn ...
The sun falls warm: the southern winds awake:The air seethes upwards with a steamy shiver:Each dip of the road is ...
The crocus, while the days are dark,Unfolds its saffron sheen;At April's touch the crudest barkDiscovers gems of green.Then sleep the ...
The sky is low, the clouds are mean,A travelling flake of snowAcross a barn or through a rutDebates if it ...
Cloud-puffball, torn tufts, tossed pillows ' flaunt forth, then chevy on an air- built thoroughfare: heaven-roysterers, in gay-gangs ' they ...
He said his name was Billy, he worked in the same spot in this place the same spot he said ...
The Sky is low -- the Clouds are mean. A Travelling Flake of Snow Across a Barn or through a ...
There were strange gatherings. A vote would come that would be no vote. There would come a rope. Yes. There ...
She is young. Have I the right Even to name her? Child, It is not love I offer Your quick ...
God gave you guts: don't let Him down; Brace up, be worthy of His giving. The road's a rut, the ...
The same old sprint in the morning, boys, to the same old din and smut; Chained all day to the ...
When the golden day is done, Through the closing portal, Child and garden, Flower and sun, Vanish all things mortal. ...
The air heaving like a wounded fish, breathing through its purplish sandy gills, letting in the salty gale, fluttering its ...
And here face down beneath the sun And here upon earth's noonward height To feel the always coming on The ...
It's little I care what path I take, And where it leads it's little I care; But out of this ...
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