Solon Stiles (Albery Allson Whitman Poems)
To town one day rode Solon Stiles,O'er weary roads and rocky miles,And thro' long lanes, whose dusty breath,Did nearly smother ...
To town one day rode Solon Stiles,O'er weary roads and rocky miles,And thro' long lanes, whose dusty breath,Did nearly smother ...
Easter Monday in the city - Rattle, rattle, rumble, rush;Tom and Jerry, ...
I was laying round town just spending my timeOut of a job and not makin' a dimeWhen up steps a ...
There are strange things told of spirits bold,And the trail to Sante Fe,There is many a tale of the Chisholm ...
RISE! Sleep no more! 'T is a noble morn: The dews hang thick on the fringed thorn, And the frost ...
I have often been asked by the people I knowed,To tell 'em the way that a cow puncher rode.Now them ...
There is some that like the city-Grass that's curried smooth and green,Theaytres and stranglin' collars,Wagons run by gasoline-But for me ...
1 I don't believe in omens or fear Forebodings. I flee from neither slander Nor from poison. Death does not ...
I cannot hide from thee how much I fearThe whispers breathed by flatterers in thine earAgainst my faith: — but ...
"O once in my saddle I used to go dashing, O once in my saddle I used to be gay! ...
It was down at the home ranch, a bunch of cow pokesGot in an old hoss that was only half ...
Anna who was mad,I have a knife in my armpit.When I stand on tiptoe I tap out messages.Am I some ...
So I took her to the river believing she was a maiden, but she already had a husband. It was ...
Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet, Till Earth and Sky stand presently ...
White founts falling in the Courts of the sun, And the Soldan of Byzantium is smiling as they run; There ...
THE PROLOGUE. The Sompnour in his stirrups high he stood, Upon this Friar his hearte was so wood,* *furious That ...
In the outskirts of the village On the river's winding shores Stand the Occidental plane-trees, Stand the ancient sycamores. One ...
Who's she, that one in your arms? She's the one I carried my bones to and built a house that ...
Anna who was mad, I have a knife in my armpit. When I stand on tiptoe I tap out messages. ...
PART ONE The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed ...
A True Incident of Pre-Revolutionary French History. Now the lovely autumn morning breathes its freshness in earth's face, In the ...
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