Suburbia – A Yearn (C J Dennis Poems)
O man with a Position, prithee tell,How is't you mould your sal'ried life so well;Holding in lofty scorn that lowly ...
O man with a Position, prithee tell,How is't you mould your sal'ried life so well;Holding in lofty scorn that lowly ...
We were speakin' of excitement, an' the hair upliftin' thrills That sorter dot life's landscape, like the bill board ads. ...
I. Birds find their longings in the eaves; Bats have their homes in sewer and drain; Torpid, beneath the last ...
Let us abandon then our gardens and go homeAnd sit in the sitting-roomShall the larkspur blossom or the corn grow ...
What for in this life you wore out the spirit In vain meditations, thoughtful man? - You scalped all the ...
Here in this spring, stars float along the void;Here in this ornamental winterDown pelts the naked weather;This summer buries a ...
Eyes aloft, over dangerous places, The children follow the butterflies, And, in the sweat of their upturned faces, Slash with ...
All winter your brute shoulders strained against collars, padding and steerhide over the ash hames, to haul sledges of cordwood ...
I He would drink by himself And raise a weathered thumb Towards the high shelf, Calling another rum And blackcurrant, ...
Bees may be trusted, always, to discover the best, nay, the only human, solution. Let me cite an instance; an ...
I, too, have stood paralyzed at the helm watching onrushing, inevitable disaster. I too have felt sweat (or ecstatic tears) ...
SEA, SEA RIDER The man who owned the bookstore was not magic. He was not a three-legged crow on the ...
I. THE FLOWER'S NAME Here's the garden she walked across, Arm in my arm, such a short while since: Hark, ...
Here is the shadow of truth, for only the shadow is true. And the line where the incoming swell from ...
Take away your knowledge, Doktor. It doesn't butter me up. You say my heart is sick unto. You ought to ...
But yesterday I banked on fistic fame, Figgerin' I'd be a champion of the Ring. Today I've half a mind ...
Old Man Death's a lousy heel who will not play the game: Let Graveyard yawn and doom down crash, he'll ...
DAYS of the dead men, Danny. Drum for the dead, drum on your remembering heart. Jaurès, a great love-heart of ...
The boys had come back from the races All silent and down on their luck; They'd backed 'em, straight out ...
Let us abandon then our gardens and go home And sit in the sitting-room Shall the larkspur blossom or the ...
The artisans of this room, who designed the lamp base (a huge red slug with a hole where its heart ...
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