The March of Ivan (Henry Lawson Poems)
Are you coming, Ivan, coming?-Ah, the ways are long and slow,In the vast land that we know not-and we never ...
Are you coming, Ivan, coming?-Ah, the ways are long and slow,In the vast land that we know not-and we never ...
Somewhere, sometime, long, long ago, I read a poem. It was soon forgotten… but the first line has stuck in ...
The bureaucratic trees stand,Almost reaching into every house.Their wandering is long overThey are behind bars and under locks.The crowded boulevards ...
As he knelt by the grave of his mother and fatherthe taste of dill, or tarragon-he could barely tell one ...
"To this the pagan senate bears witness:-- THESE DEEDS SHALL NEVER DIE! -- "He lit his pipe and wrapped his ...
The camel snorts. He won't get up. .His grumbling flanks are heaving. Give himA kick?.. The criers' calls atopThe mosques ...
You were never told, Mother, how old Illyawas drunk That last holiday, for five days and nights He stumbled through ...
Frau Doktor, Mama Brundig, take out your contacts, remove your wig. I write for you. I entertain. But frogs come ...
(After Pushkin) Look at the bare wood hand-waxed floor and long White dressing-gown, the good child's writing-desk And passionate cold ...
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