Dave Lilly (Joyce Kilmer Poem)
There's a brook on the side of Greylock that used to be full of trout, But there's nothing there now ...
There's a brook on the side of Greylock that used to be full of trout, But there's nothing there now ...
God gave all men all earth to love, But, since our hearts are small Ordained for each one spot should ...
See you the ferny ride that steals Into the oak-woods far? O that was whence they hewed the keels That ...
Comrades, if I don't live to see the day -- I mean,if I die before freedom comes -- take me ...
Good Father!. 'Twas an eve in middle June, And war was waged anew By great Napoleon, who for years had ...
They are rhymes rudely strung with intent less Of sound than of words, In lands where bright blossoms are scentless, ...
The green sky over the water rising from the depth beyond the bright horizon far off to the east After ...
Does your semen smell like camembert? It's just a thought I had today at lunch, I must have had the ...
TO the assembled folk At great St. Kavin's spoke Young Brother Amiel on Christmas Eve; I give you joy, my ...
...Preamble A rough draft for an ars poetica . . . . . . . Let's get our dreams unstuck ...
Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode, The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road. ...
THE PROLOGUE. The Sompnour in his stirrups high he stood, Upon this Friar his hearte was so wood,* *furious That ...
Sometimes the notes are ferocious, skirmishes against the author raging along the borders of every page in tiny black script. ...
Blake saw a treeful of angels at Peckham Rye, And his hands could lay hold on the tiger's terrible heart. ...
And then life; and once again A house where I was born. Around us The granary above what once had ...
I have braved, for want of wild beasts, steel cages, carved my term and nickname on bunks and rafters, lived ...
SANDBOX MINUS JOHN DILLINGER EQUALS WHAT? Often I return to the cover of Trout Fishing in America. I took the ...
Coming thro' the rye, poor body, Coming thro' the rye, She draiglet a' her petticoatie Coming thro' the rye. O, ...
I was a cottage maiden Hardened by sun and air Contented with my cottage mates, Not mindful I was fair. ...
Wal, Thanksgivin' do be comin' round. With the price of turkeys on the bound, And coal, by gum! Thet were ...
'Twas in the year of 1887, which many people will long remember, The burning of the Theatre at Exeter on ...
Under yonder beech-tree single on the green-sward, Couched with her arms behind her golden head, Knees and tresses folded to ...
"Son," said my mother, When I was knee-high, "you've need of clothes to cover you, and not a rag have ...
The last of last words spoken is, Good-bye - The last dismantled flower in the weed-grown hedge, The last thin ...
In Havana in 1948 I ate fried dog believing it was Peking duck. Later, in Tampa I bunked with an ...
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