Book III – Part 03 – The Soul is Mortal (Lucretius Poems)
Now come: that thou mayst able be to knowThat minds and the light souls of all that liveHave mortal birth ...
Now come: that thou mayst able be to knowThat minds and the light souls of all that liveHave mortal birth ...
'Twas such a manner of disease, 'twas suchMortal miasma in Cecropian landsWhilom reduced the plains to dead men's bones,Unpeopled the ...
They went to the February place: 'Twas fashioned, with curious art, Of colored sugar and paper lace, With a front door shaped like ...
It was that fierce contested field where Chickamauga layBeneath the wild tornado that swept her pride away;Her dimpling dales and ...
There's snow, there's hai'l wi' the Nor'-West Gale, There's sleet and there's rattling rain,There's many a gust o' the spindrift dust On ...
Borne in the car along a crowded way, Sun-soaked, I saw the world like shadows glide, Or phantom boats, upon a running ...
The silent forestshave the only, gently resoundingmusic I can abide:torrential blue downpours wash away the footprints -with leaves and more ...
I He whom we anatomized 'whose words we gathered as pleasant flowers and thought on his wit and how neatly ...
Through throats where many rivers meet, the curlews cry,Under the conceiving moon, on the high chalk hill,And there this night ...
To Andrew LytleParis, November 1929Their faces are bony and sharp but very red, althoughtheir ancestors nearly two hundred years have ...
I CHANCED upon a line of thought, a thin line And traced its sinuous course from start to end ; ...
Sweet in the leafy woods the round Of singing birds in June;And sweet on wintry hills the soundOf hounds that ...
There are noises that freeze up the blood, There's the sound of the burglar at night As he's picking the ...
All in the wild and windy night I heard the treetops moan,I heard the drift of scurrying leaves ...
The thrill of war's a base deceit, The rattle of the drum's a lie; It lures brave men with scurrying ...
The little boy pressed his face against the window-pane and looked out at the bright sunshiny morning. The cobble-stones of ...
just as the dusk comes hooting down through the shivering black leaves of the swinging trees we (the brave ones ...
(a) they seek to celebrate the word not to bring their knives out on a poem dissecting it to find ...
The house had gone to bring again To the midnight sky a sunset glow. Now the chimney was all of ...
We crossed to the other side, the burgee of the boat ceased flapping and lagged behind like a dead wing. ...
(Written with the hope that the socialists might yet dethrone Kaiser and Czar.) Here's to the mice that scare the ...
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