To the Ideal. Prefatory Poem to The Pilgrims of the Rhine (Edward George Bulwer-Lytton Poems)
I. Like the sweet Naiad of the Grecian's dreams,A Spirit born of Song — unseen, all-seeing—Lives deep within our dark ...
I. Like the sweet Naiad of the Grecian's dreams,A Spirit born of Song — unseen, all-seeing—Lives deep within our dark ...
Madame,VVhil'st that, for which all vertue now is sold, And almost every vice, almightie gold,That which, to boote with hell, ...
You see this Tea, no milk or sugar in it,Like peat-born water's brown translucency,Where deep and still it lingers through ...
Quengu?l?qu?ze! . Quengu?l?qu?ze! . (New Moon) It appeared, the new moon,and the great news] - Quengu?l?qu?ze! . - it went ...
Here's the criminal's friend, delightful evening:come like an accomplice, with a wolf's loping:slowly the sky's vast vault hides each feature,and ...
AND now she walks on out turned feet Beside the litter in the street Or rolls beneath a dirty sheet ...
The world's a theatre. The earth, a stagePlaced in the midst: where both prince and page,Both rich and poor, fool, ...
The nursery fire burns brightly, crackling in cheerful little explosions and trails of sparks up the back of the chimney. ...
ENDYMION. A Poetic Romance. "THE STRETCHED METRE OF AN AN ANTIQUE SONG." INSCRIBED TO THE MEMORY OF THOMAS CHATTERTON. Book ...
The angels, the travel from her home to Elizabeth to see her cousin to share in the wonder of God ...
His mother's voice through his mother's womb gave away his presence, his nearness his being, so close, so close a ...
Born woman. Go on. It's farther than it seems, but okay. Credit card's been stolen. Go on. Above all, remember, ...
How like a winter hath my absence been From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! What freezings have I ...
HOW like a Winter hath my absence been From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! What freezings have I ...
How like a winter hath my absence been From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! What freezings have I ...
What is our life? A play of passion, Our mirth the music of division, Our mother's wombs the tiring-houses be, ...
A beast stands at my eye. I cook my senses in a dark fire. The old wombs rot and the ...
The air is a mill of hooks -- Questions without answer, Glittering and drunk as flies Whose kiss stings unbearably ...
It so happens I am sick of being a man. And it happens that I walk into tailorshops and movie ...
Central Park: Water Fight, Flight, and Tears June 1 2001, N.Y. C., U.S.A. (1) From the five boroughs of N.Y.C., ...
Young are our dead Like babies they lie The wombs they blest once Not healed dry And yet - too ...
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