The Black Rock (John Gould Fletcher Poems)
To Thomas HardyIOff the long headland, threshed about by round-backed breakers,There is a black rock, standing high at the full ...
To Thomas HardyIOff the long headland, threshed about by round-backed breakers,There is a black rock, standing high at the full ...
ILike a gaunt, scraggly pine Which lifts its head above the mournful sandhills; And patiently, through dull years of bitter ...
By an alley lined with tumble-down shacks, And street-lamps askew, half-sputtering, Feebly glimmering on gutters choked with filth, and dogs Scratching their mangy ...
By an alley lined with tumble-down shacks,And street-lamps askew, half-sputtering,Feebly glimmering on gutters choked with filth, and dogsScratching their mangy ...
After ten thousand centuries have gone, Man will ascend the last long pass to know That all the summits which he saw ...
If the autumn ended Ere the birds flew southward, If in the cold with weary throats They vainly strove to sing, Winter would be ...
Over the scattered trees, over the sunbrowned meadow,The bells wove their rhythm of delicate, proud, airborne music;Fragments of lacework through ...
My mind is a puddle in the street reflecting green Sirius; In thick dark groves trees huddle lifting their branches like beckoning ...
A hundred miles of landscape spread before me like a fan; Hills behind naked hills, bronze light of evening on them ...
I Like a gaunt, scraggly pine Which lifts its head above the mournful sandhills; And patiently, through dull years of ...
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