Ballade adresse a Geoffrey Chaucer (Eustache Deschamps Poems)
O Socrat?s plains de philosophie,Seneque en meurs, Auglius en pratique,Ovides grans en ta po?trie,Bri?s en parler, saiges en rethorique . ...
O Socrat?s plains de philosophie,Seneque en meurs, Auglius en pratique,Ovides grans en ta po?trie,Bri?s en parler, saiges en rethorique . ...
I was tired of being a woman,tired of the spoons and the post,tired of my mouth and my breasts,tired of ...
A vision beauteous as the morn, With heavenly eyes and tresses streaming, Slow glided o'er a field late shorn ...
PEACE! where art thou to be found? Where, in all the spacious Round, May thy Footsteps be pursu'd? Where may ...
I wish I was a poet like the men that write in booksThe poems that we have to learn on ...
BONNIE wee laddies, and rosy-check'd lassies,Joyfully trotting to Kindergart classes,How gaily you march to the music of duty;Pictures and poems ...
what? they say, "you got acomputer?"it's like I have sold out tothe enemy.I had no idea so manypeople were prejudicedagainstcomputers.even ...
ON READING WITH DIFFICULTY SOME OF SCHILLER'S EARLY LOVE POEMS. When of thy loves, and happy heavenly dreams ...
Spoke well the Grecian, when he said that poems Were the high laws that sway'd a nation's mind-Voices that live ...
Why not a poem as they treat The stories in the magazines?"Eustacia's lips were very sweet. He stooped to"-and here ...
'Tis twilight dim; the musing dreamer sitsBefore his hearth, the sunset on his brow,And thus he ponders ere the birth ...
Ah nuts! It's boring reading French newspapers in New York as if I were a Colonial waiting for my gin ...
I fill this cup to one made upOf loveliness alone,A woman, of her gentle sexThe seeming paragon;To whom the better ...
When you come in, it seems a brighter fireCrackles upon the hearth invitingly,The household routine which was wont to tire ...
Inspired by the letters of Ethel and Julius RosenbergWishing for the roses of your lipswe offered ourselves to a gallows' ...
This poem is not addressed to you. You may come into it briefly, But no one will find you here, ...
But the essential advantage for a poet is not, to have a beautiful world with which to deal: it is ...
Crushing in my hand The bay as I pass, Drinking in its fragrance With the sea's scent, ...
Snow is falling: snow is falling.Geranium flowers reachfor the blizzard's small white starspast the window's edge. Snow is falling, all ...
THE poet in theory worships the moon, But how can he linger, to gaze on her light? With proof-sheets and ...
Before dawn I called for you,my poem, but you didn't come.I had woken up to the songof the cardinal perchedon ...
AD XANTHIAM PHOCEUMHorace: Book II, Ode 4._"Ne sit ancillae tibi amor pudori."_Nay, Xanthias, feel unashamed That she you love is ...
As underdeath an Oak one Day Free from unpeaceful Thoughts I lay A gentle Slumber o'er my head His downy ...
The heat sticks closely to the gun and to the hand.It pricks the eyes. Nothing remained forgotten.The troops stepped, half ...
Safe in their alabaster chambers,Untouched by morning and untouched by noon,Sleep the meek members of the resurrection,Rafter of satin, and ...
Human reason is beautiful and invincible.No bars, no barbed wire, no pulping of books,No sentence of banishment can prevail against ...
I watch with curiosity and surprise faces bodies wordsas you know I write you from outside San Francisco ...
the illusion is that you are simplyreading this poem.the reality is that this ismore than apoem.this is a beggar's knife.this ...
I am not a painter, I am a poet.Why? I think I would rather bea painter, but I am not. ...
Who travels alone with his eye on the heights,Though he laughs in the daytime, oft weeps through the nights;For courage ...
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