The House Of Dust: Part 03: 12: Witches’ Sabbath (Conrad Aiken Poems)
Now, when the moon slid under the cloud And the cold clear dark of starlight fell, He heard in his ...
Now, when the moon slid under the cloud And the cold clear dark of starlight fell, He heard in his ...
'Number four-the girl who died on the table- The girl with golden hair-' The purpling body lies on the polished ...
Snow falls. The sky is grey, and sullenly glares With purple lights in the canyoned street. The fiery sign on ...
As evening falls, And the yellow lights leap one by one Along high walls; And along black streets that glisten ...
She turned her head on the pillow, and cried once more. And drawing a shaken breath, and closing her eyes, ...
Over the darkened city, the city of towers, The city of a thousand gates, Over the gleaming terraced roofs, the ...
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light. The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the ...
Come, thrust your hands in the warm earth And feel her strength through all your veins; Breathe her full odors, ...
1 Faster, faster, 2 O Circe, Goddess, 3 Let the wild, thronging train 4 The bright procession 5 Of eddying ...
The Youth Faster, faster, O Circe, Goddess, Let the wild, thronging train The bright procession Of eddying forms, Sweep through ...
My shadow said to me: what is the matter Isn't the moon warm enough for you why do you need ...
The world is full of women who'd tell me I should be ashamed of myself if they had the chance. ...
All those times I was bored out of my mind. Holding the log while he sawed it. Holding the string ...
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs, Rotting ...
O YE wha are sae guid yoursel', Sae pious and sae holy, Ye've nought to do but mark and tell ...
O LEAVE novels, 1 ye Mauchline belles, Ye're safer at your spinning-wheel; Such witching books are baited hooks For rakish ...
THINE am I, my faithful Fair, Thine, my lovely Nancy; Ev'ry pulse along my veins, Ev'ry roving fancy. To thy ...
SCOTS, wha hae wi' WALLACE bled, Scots, wham BRUCE has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed, Or to Victorie! ...
Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed, Or to victory! ...
1. The voice ended, they saw his pale visage Emerge from the darkness; his hand On the rock of eternity ...
O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stain'd With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit Beneath my shady ...
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