Legs And The Man (C J Dennis Poems)
Alas, my dear, be you high-born, Or just a Sydney cutie,I fear you've earned a he-man's scorn Thro' failing in ...
Alas, my dear, be you high-born, Or just a Sydney cutie,I fear you've earned a he-man's scorn Thro' failing in ...
FOR every man who works there are A dozen who will let him; They'll smiling bask within the shade The ...
Who, when reveilles hateful blareUnknits my "ravelled sleeve of care,"Growls at me like a wounded bear?The Sergeant !And when at ...
When the flowery hands of springForth their woodland riches fling, Through the meadows, through the valleysGoes the satyr carolling.From the ...
I drink the gall of skies in autumn, tuberoses' Sweet bitterness in your betrayals burning stream; I drink the gall ...
In dreams I see the Dromedary still,As once in a gay park I saw him stand:A thousand eyes in vulgar ...
He walked the streets of the old mill town long past the heyday of his life heavy soles on his ...
Prate, ye who will, of so-called charms you find across the sea-- The land of stoves and sunshine is good ...
As a child I played in the same frosty fields barefoot as my no lesser loved classmates, whom we challenged ...
Colours fade into nameless shades of grey and where the tonsure of bas-relief crudely stands effete, semantic symbolism degrades into ...
I Hot through Troy's ruin Menelaus broke To Priam's palace, sword in hand, to sate On that adulterous whore a ...
THERE was a lass, they ca'd her Meg, And she held o'er the moors to spin; There was a lad ...
THIS 1 wot ye all whom it concerns, I, Rhymer Robin, alias Burns, October twenty-third, A ne'er-to-be-forgotten day, Sae far ...
I GAT your letter, winsome Willie; Wi' gratefu' heart I thank you brawlie; Tho' I maun say't, I wad be ...
SOME books are lies frae end to end, And some great lies were never penn'd: Ev'n ministers they hae been ...
In Breughel's great picture, The Kermess, the dancers go round, they go round and around, the squeal and the blare ...
The bear that breathes the northern blast Did numb, torpedo-like, a wasp Whose stiffened limbs encramped, lay bathing In Sol's ...
"Hae ye heard whit ma auld mither's postit tae me? It fair maks me hamesick," says Private McPhee. "And whit ...
How grand the human race would be If every man would wear a kilt, A flirt of Tartan finery, Instead ...
FLANDERS, the name of a place, a country of people, Spells itself with letters, is written in books. "Where is ...
Revolving in oval loops of solar speed, Couched in cauls of clay as in holy robes, Dead men render love ...
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