Senlin: His Cloudy Destiny (Conrad Aiken Poem)
1 Senlin sat before us and we heard him. He smoked his pipe before us and we saw him. Was ...
1 Senlin sat before us and we heard him. He smoked his pipe before us and we saw him. Was ...
1 Senlin sits before us, and we see him. He smokes his pipe before us, and we hear him. Is ...
1 Senlin sits before us, and we see him. He smokes his pipe before us, and we hear him. Is ...
I The girl in the room beneath Before going to bed Strums on a mandolin The three simple tunes she ...
I. (Bread and Music) Music I heard with you was more than music, And bread I broke with you was ...
She ONLY to be twin elements of joy In this extravagance of Being, Love, Were our divided natures shaped in ...
Water ruffled and speckled by galloping wind Which puffs and spurts it into tiny pashing breaks Dashed with lemon-yellow afternoon ...
Awake! Awake! for the earliest gleam Of golden sunlight shines On the rippling waves, that brightly flow Beneath the flowering ...
Thistledown in prison sings: Bright shines the summer sun, Soft is the summer air; Gayly the wood-birds sing, Flowers are ...
The moonlight fades from flower and rose And the stars dim one by one; The tale is told, the song ...
I don't know somehow it seems sufficient to see and hear whatever coming and going is, losing the self to ...
As Parmigianino did it, the right hand Bigger than the head, thrust at the viewer And swerving easily away, as ...
On a roof in the Old City Laundry hanging in the late afternoon sunlight: The white sheet of a woman ...
Cruising these residential Sunday streets in dry August sunlight: what offends us is the sanities: the houses in pedantic rows, ...
Gone are the days when you could walk on water. When you could walk. The days are gone. Only one ...
Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear Too calm and sad a face in front of thine; For we ...
There are sketches on the walls of men and women and ducks, and outside a large green bus swerves through ...
call it the greenhouse effect or whatever but it just doesn't rain like it used to. I particularly remember the ...
death wants more death, and its webs are full: I remember my father's garage, how child-like I would brush the ...
The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the ocean, The winds of Heaven mix for ever With ...
Simple things are lovely things. Rain, dropping from the eaves, Is molten silver streaming down, Upon the fallen leaves. The ...
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