Blessing The Cornfields (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poem)
Sing, O Song of Hiawatha, Of the happy days that followed, In the land of the Ojibways, In the pleasant ...
Sing, O Song of Hiawatha, Of the happy days that followed, In the land of the Ojibways, In the pleasant ...
I. Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight: And ...
in the wares before you spread, Types of all things may be read. 'NEATH the shadow Of these bushes, On ...
Feet and faces tingle In that frore land: Legs wobble and go wingle, You scarce can stand. The skies are ...
Millions of babies watching the skies Bellies swollen, with big round eyes On Jessore Road--long bamboo huts Noplace to shit ...
A neighborhood on their front stoops open doors for those who can't afford don't have fans, air conditioners foreign tongues, ...
1 Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight: And ...
I THE WINTER evening settles down With smell of steaks in passageways. Six o'clock. The burnt-out ends of smoky days. ...
In seventeen hundred, a much hated sultan visited us twice, finally dying of headaches in the south harbor. Ever since, ...
Image of her whom I love, more than she, Whose fair impression in my faithful heart Makes me her medal, ...
I leave the office, take the stairs, in time to mail a letter before 3 in the afternoon--the last dispatch. ...
My friend went to the piano; spun the stool A little higher; left his pipe to cool; Picked up a ...
There are no postage stamps that send letters back to England three centuries ago, no postage stamps that make letters ...
Here is a coast; here is a harbor; here, after a meager diet of horizon, is some scenery: impractically shaped ...
Hidden, oh hidden in the high fog the house we live in, beneath the magnetic rock, rain-, rainbow-ridden, where blood-black ...
I The bitterness. the misery, the wretchedness of childhood Put me out of love with God. I can't believe in ...
The Argument. Rintrah roars & shakes his fires in the burdend air; Hungry clouds swag on the deep Once meek, ...
lonely as a dry and used orchard spread over the earth for use and surrender. shot down like an ex-pug ...
ah, christ, what a CREW: more poetry, always more P O E T R Y . if it doesn't come, ...
As in one's hand a lighted match blinds you before it comes aflame and sends out brilliant flickering tongues to ...
My Babbles has a nasty knack Of keeping monkeys on her back. A great big black one comes and swings ...
After two sittings, now our Lady State To end her picture does the third time wait. But ere thou fall'st ...
Whenever I go there everything is changed The stamps on the bandages the titles Of the professors of water The ...
In Havana in 1948 I ate fried dog believing it was Peking duck. Later, in Tampa I bunked with an ...
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