Death Of The Kapowsin Tavern (Richard Hugo Poem)
I can't ridge it back again from char. Not one board left. Only ash a cat explores and shattered glass ...
I can't ridge it back again from char. Not one board left. Only ash a cat explores and shattered glass ...
Oh Book! infinite sweetness! let my heart Suck ev'ry letter, and a honey gain, Precious for any grief in any ...
Having been tenant long to a rich lord, Not thriving, I resolved to be bold, And make a suit unto ...
THROUGH my north window, in the wintry weather,-- My airy oriel on the river shore,-- I watch the sea-fowl as ...
So many people God giving sight visions of his purpose coming to light Guiding his people even in exile in ...
The words coming easy not merely dry bones laying on my desk, in the computer, the ether coming together with ...
Finding the tares, the weeds the grasses, the ragweed, milkweed and plantain, growing, thriving in the lilies, the beds, the ...
WHEN William went from home (a trader styled): Six months his better half he left with child, A simple, comely, ...
A Thriving Merchant, who no Loss sustained, In little time a mighty Fortune gain'd. No Pyrate seiz'd his still returning ...
I cautious, scanned my little life -- I winnowed what would fade From what would last till Heads like mine ...
This house which is lived in resounds with the chorus of voices bound in the press of its generous, unconcealed ...
If I don't write something good tonight I will sleep without the comforting Canopus of deep believers, if I sleep ...
On an ebony bed decorated with coral eagles, sound asleep lies Nero -- unconscious, quiet, and blissful; thriving in the ...
During the father's walkingâ?"how he look down by now in soft boards, Henry, pass and what he feel or no, ...
The glories of the world struck me, made me aria, once. â?"What happen then, Mr Bones? if be you cares ...
Chorus.-Awa' Whigs, awa'! Awa' Whigs, awa'! Ye're but a pack o' traitor louns, Ye'll do nae gude at a'. OUR ...
God, what a joy it is to plant a tree, And from the sallow earth to watch it rise, Lifting ...
Earth no longer hymns the Creator, the seven days of wonder, the Garden is over - all the stories are ...
Est brevitate opus, ut currat sententia, neu se Impediat verbis lassas onerantibus aures: Et sermone opus est modo tristi, saepe ...
What have I became in this false fantasy? Thriving on something sweet, submerging into another world. Without it I tumble ...
There comes a time when the story turns into twenty different stories and soon after that he academy of shadows ...
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