A Redeemer (Robinson Jeffers Poems)
The road had steepened and the sun sharpened on the highridges; the stream probably was dry,Certainly not to be come ...
The road had steepened and the sun sharpened on the highridges; the stream probably was dry,Certainly not to be come ...
I.Here is the skull of a man: a man's thoughts and emotionsHave moved under the thin bone vault like cloudsUnder ...
Farther up the gorge the sea's voice fainted and ceased.We heard a new noise far away ahead of us, vague ...
After all, we also stand on a height. Our blood and our culturehave passed the flood-marks of any worldUp to ...
Joy is a trick in the air; pleasure is merelycontemptible, the dangledCarrot the ass follows to market or precipice;But limitary ...
The fierce musical cries of a couple of sparrowhawks huntingon the headland,Hovering and darting, their heads northwestward,Prick like silver arrows ...
I When I considered it too closely, when I wore it like an element and smelt it like water, Life ...
If you should look for this place after a handful of lifetimes: Perhaps of my planted forest a few May ...
What's the best life for a man? --Never to have been born, sings the choros, and the next best Is ...
The old woman sits on a bench before the door and quarrels With her meagre pale demoralized daughter. Once when ...
Joy is a trick in the air; pleasure is merely contemptible, the dangled Carrot the ass follows to market or ...
We have now won two world-wars, neither of which concerned us, we were slipped in. We have levelled the powers ...
I. Reference to a Passage in Plutarch's Life of Sulla The people buying and selling, consuming pleasures, talking in the ...
If God has been good enough to give you a poet Then listen to him. But for God's sake let ...
"I hate my verses, every line, every word. Oh pale and brittle pencils ever to try One grass-blade's curve, or ...
I followed the narrow cliffside trail half way up the mountain Above the deep river-canyon. There was a little cataract ...
When the sun shouts and people abound One thinks there were the ages of stone and the age of bronze ...
Seventy years ago my mother labored to bear me, A twelve-pound baby with a big head, Her first, it was ...
I The broken pillar of the wing jags from the clotted shoulder, The wing trails like a banner in defeat, ...
Unhappy about some far off things That are not my affair, wandering Along the coast and up the lean ridges, ...
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