Tortoise Shell (David Herbert Lawrence Poem)
The Cross, the Cross Goes deeper in than we know, Deeper into life; Right into the marrow And through the ...
The Cross, the Cross Goes deeper in than we know, Deeper into life; Right into the marrow And through the ...
Full many a dreary hour have I past, My brain bewildered, and my mind o'ercast With heaviness; in seasons when ...
Give me a golden pen, and let me lean On heaped-up flowers, in regions clear, and far; Bring me a ...
This is a day of happiness, sweet peace, And heavenly sunshine; upon which conven'd In full assembly fair, once more ...
I Our life is twofold; Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence: Sleep ...
I. The morn when first it thunders in March, The eel in the pond gives a leap, they say: As ...
AS toilsome I wander'd Virginia's woods, To the music of rustling leaves, kick'd by my feet, (for 'twas autumn,) I ...
When on my bed the moonlight falls, I know that in thy place of rest By that broad water of ...
Perhaps the earth is floating, I do not know. Perhaps the stars are little paper cutups made by some giant ...
God loafs around heaven, without a shape but He would like to smoke His cigar or bite His fingernails and ...
I know a village in a far-off land Where from a sunny, mountain-girdled plain With tinted walls a space on ...
WHEN Thomas set this tablet here, Time laughed at the vain chanticleer; And ere the moss had dimmed the stone, ...
Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels' hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly pressed ...
I have got out of my own control, I have fallen into unconsciousness; in my utter unconsciousness how joyful I ...
'Twas on a Mountain, near the Western Main An ALIEN dwelt. A solitary Hut Built on a jutting crag, o'erhung ...
LUBIN and KATE, as gossips tell, Were Lovers many a day; LUBIN the damsel lov'd so well, That folks pretend ...
The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here. Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in I am ...
The air is a mill of hooks -- Questions without answer, Glittering and drunk as flies Whose kiss stings unbearably ...
Is it true, Spoon River, That in the hall-way of the New Court House There is a tablet of bronze ...
My thanks, friends of the County Scientific Association, For this modest boulder, And its little tablet of bronze. Twice I ...
I won the prize essay at school Here in the village, And published a novel before I was twenty-five. I ...
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