The Dead-Beat (Wilfred Owen Poems)
He dropped, -- more sullenly than wearily, Lay stupid like a cod, heavy like meat, And none of us could ...
He dropped, -- more sullenly than wearily, Lay stupid like a cod, heavy like meat, And none of us could ...
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten ...
Come, for the dusk is our own; let us fare forth together, With a quiet delight in our hearts for ...
Here I lean over you, small son, sleeping Warm in my arms, And I con to my heart all your ...
Between the rice swamps and the fields of tea I met a sacred elephant, snow-white. Upon his back a huge ...
From this hour the pledge is given, From this hour my soul is thine: Come what will, from earth of ...
The young May moon is beaming, love. The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love. How sweet to rove, Through Morna's grove, ...
Love is enough: have no thought for to-morrow If ye lie down this even in rest from your pain, Ye ...
The railroad track is miles away, And the day is loud with voices speaking, Yet there isn't a train goes ...
To E.M.S. Here, where your garden fenced about and still is, Here, where the unmoved summer air is sweet With ...
(1) Caressing my tender breasts, his left hand's on the steering wheel, and his right hand is firmly tucked away ...
Through the pregnant universe rumbles life's terrific thunder, And Earth's bowels quake with terror; strange and terrible storms break, Lightning-torches ...
"Sweep thy faint strings, Musician, With thy long lean hand; Downward the starry tapers burn, Sinks soft the waning sand; ...
Cruel? I think there never was a cheating More cruel, thro' all the weary days than this! This is no ...
The little pansies by the road have turned Away their purple faces and their gold, And evening has taken all ...
Would that by Hindu magic we became Dark monks of jeweled India long ago, Sitting at Prince Siddartha's feet to ...
I. A NEGRO SERMON:-SIMON LEGREE (To be read in your own variety of negro dialect.) Legree's big house was white ...
A Fantasy, dedicated to the little poet Alice Oliver Henderson, ten years old. The Fantasy shows how tiger-hearts are the ...
To-day the woods are trembling through and through With shimmering forms, that flash before my view, Then melt in green ...
Chapter I. Once on a time, a Dawn, all red and bright Leapt on the conquered ramparts of the Night, ...
One day you will see that it all has finally come together. What you have always wished for has finally ...
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