The Hammers (Amy Lowell Poem)
I Frindsbury, Kent, 1786 Bang! Bang! Tap! Tap-a-tap! Rap! All through the lead and silver Winter days, All through the ...
I Frindsbury, Kent, 1786 Bang! Bang! Tap! Tap-a-tap! Rap! All through the lead and silver Winter days, All through the ...
The tree of knowledge was the tree of reason. That's why the taste of it drove us from Eden. That ...
'Twixt the coastline and the border lay the town of Grog-an'-Grumble In the days before the bushman was a dull ...
Full of wrath was Hiawatha When he came into the village, Found the people in confusion, Heard of all the ...
When the sun shouts and people abound One thinks there were the ages of stone and the age of bronze ...
Well, son, I'll tell you: Life for me ain't been no crystal stair. It's had tacks in it, And splinters, ...
ALL is over! fleet career, Dash of greyhound slipping thongs, Flight of falcon, bound of deer, Mad hoof-thunder in our ...
We were the whip, the jeers, the scourging, the mocking of the soldiers bringing shame, pain, humiliation to the savior, ...
He may have done it, almost unconsciously, a natural gesture, an instinctive act I just happened to be there, in ...
Now that they've got it settled whose I be, I'm going to tell them something they won't like: They've got ...
Memory: I can take my head and strike it on a wall on Cumberland Island Where the night tide came ...
Bhaskar Roy Barman So much obsessed with a piece of work devolved upon me and fed up with it, I ...
I. So, I shall see her in three days And just one night, but nights are short, Then two long ...
Now can you see the monument? It is of wood built somewhat like a box. No. Built like several boxes ...
This level reach of blue is not my sea; Here are sweet waters, pretty in the sun, Whose quiet ripples ...
Him goin' to ride for us! Him -- with the pants and the eyeglass and all. Amateur! don't he just ...
Desine, Paulle, meum lacrimis urgere sepulcrum: nempe tuas lacrimas litora surda bibent. Propertius, IV.11 Don't cry for me, for only ...
'O Jesus Christ! I'm hit,' he said; and died. Whether he vainly cursed, or prayed indeed, The Bullets chirped - ...
Troubled slumbering of things, the curtain blown aside by the gush of the salty wind, the advent of the tide ...
Childhood sleeps in a verandah room in an iron bed close to the wall where the winter over the railing ...
I winged my bird, Though he flew toward the setting sun; But just as the shot rang out, he soared ...
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