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In The Garden
Aylmer's Garden, near the Lake. LAURENCE RABY and ESTELLE.
Come to the bank where the boat is moor'd to the willow-tree low;
Adam Lindsay Gordon
The forest ended. Glad I was
To feel the light, and hear the hum
Of bees, and smell the drying grass
And the sweet mint, because I had come
We have tested and tasted too much, lover-
Through a chink too wide there comes in no wonder.
But here in the Advent-darkened room
Where the dry black bread and the sugarless tea
Dim, as the borrow'd beams of moon and stars
To lonely, weary, wand'ring travellers,
Is reason to the soul; and as on high,
Those rolling fires discover but the sky
Just for a day you crossed my life's dull track,
Put my ignobler dreams to sudden shame,
Went your bright way, and left me to fall back
On my own world of poorer deed and aim;
To Think Of Time
To think of time, of all that retrospection!
To think of to-day, and the ages continued henceforward!
Have you guess'd you yourself would not continue?
Nature's lay idiot, I taught thee to love,
And in that sophistry, Oh, thou dost prove
Too subtle: Foole, thou didst not understand
The mystic language of the eye nor hand:
Some time when the river is ice ask me
mistakes I have made. Ask me whether
what I have done is my life. Others
have come in their slow way into
This I think as I go my way:
What can matter the words I say,
And what can matter the false or true
Of any deed I am moved to do?
Edgar Albert Guest
they clapped when we landed
thinking africa was just an extension
of the black world
they smiled as we taxied home to be met
I Have Been Thinking
I have been thinking...
I have been thinking of the difference between water
I have been thinkingI have been thinkingand the waves on it. Rising,
water's still water, falling back,
He brought me his report card from the teacher and he said
He wasn't very proud of it and sadly bowed his head.
He was excellent in reading, but arithmetic, was fair,
And I noticed there were several 'unsatisfactorys' there;
Edgar Albert Guest
IN yonder red-brick mansion, tight and square,
Just at the town's commencement, lives the mayor.
Some yards of shining gravel, fenced with box,
Lead to the painted portal--where one knocks :
I let myself in at the kitchen door.
“It's you,” she said. “I can't get up. Forgive me
Not answering your knock. I can no more
Let people in than I can keep them out.
The Odyssey: Book 03
But as the sun was rising from the fair sea into the firmament of
heaven to shed Blight on mortals and immortals, they reached Pylos the
city of Neleus. Now the people of Pylos were gathered on the sea shore
to offer sacrifice of black bulls to Neptune lord of the Earthquake.
For longer war they came, and with a fury
That only Modred's opportunity,
Seized in the dark of Britain, could have hushed
And ended in a night. For Lancelot,
Edwin Arlington Robinson
“After the men were ordered to lie down, a white rabbit,
which had been hopping hither and thither over the field
swept by grape and musketry, took refuge among the
skirmishers, in the breast of a corporal.”-Report
Fear, like a living fire that only death
Might one day cool, had now in Avonâ??s eyes
Been witness for so long of an invasion
That made of a gay friend whom we had known
Edwin Arlington Robinson
When they taught me that what mattered most
was not the strict iambic line goose-stepping
over the page but the variations
in that line and the tension produced
Chaucer's Tale Of Meliboeus
'No more of this, for Godde's dignity!'
Quoth oure Hoste; 'for thou makest me
So weary of thy very lewedness,* *stupidity, ignorance
That, all so wisly* God my soule bless, *surely
Somewhere within the murmuring of things
that make no difference-aimlessly playing,
drifting in the wind-a loose door swings,
My little one, sleep softly
Among the toys and flowers.
Sleep softly, O my first-born son,
Through all the long dark hours.
The Black Cottage
We chanced in passing by that afternoon
To catch it in a sort of special picture
Among tar-banded ancient cherry trees,
Set well back from the road in rank lodged grass,
You did not walk with me
Of late to the hill-top tree
As in earlier days,
By the gated ways:
Anger in its time and place
May assume a kind of grace.
It must have some reason in it,
And not last beyond a minute.