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When skeptically he bellied on back to the arid sea
To escape the spirited insurgency from disgruntled land owners
The alligator did not shut out his rule
It knew it lived by the bereavement of other creatures
Sooner Than A While!
When I first saw you,
I felt like I had known you forever.
That moment still flash-by my eyes,
Reminding me of your smile ever and ever.
The Printing Machine
It begins at the brink of the dawn,
with the sound of chrring printing machine.
Chrring bloody scenes into bold black ink and we drink to that ink that make our stomach sink yet the machine harps happily.
and there goes the busy printing machine louder and louder, More louder than the screams of a woman screaming for help in a warehouse while she was raped, brutally but the fair and lovely ad gets more space snootily and strangly we go on reading the newspaper with our daily cup of tea perpetually.
Good Things Come With Time
Close enough the call to light,
I'd rather duck under my bed tonight.
The cold chills but the shimmers delight,
The mornings of a dark spell so right.
'See, Daphne, see!' Florelio cried,
'And learn the sad effects of pride;
Yon shelter'd rose, how safe conceal'd!
How quickly blasted when reveal'd!
A smiling moon is a hearts desire ,
But eclipses are what make it worth ,
O forlorn night why do you despair?
Your deepest sorrow is your prettiest attire.
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
Waiting For You
Alone in this lofty and deserted place,
Have I patiently and eagerly waited.
Among men each day have I search your face;
The Crimes Of Peace
Musing upon the tragedies of earth,
Of each new horror which each hour gives birth,
Of sins that scar and cruelties that blight
Life's little season, meant for man's delight,
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
A middle-northern March, now as always-
gusts from the South broken against cold winds-
but from under, as if a slow hand lifted a tide,
it moves-not into April-into a second March,
William Carlos Williams
COLOSSAL orb of space,
Sparkling with diamond
Of countless star on star,
All whirling with wild grace
Katharine Lee Bates
Far, far o'er the deep is my island throne,
Where the sea-gull roams and reigns alone;
Where nought is seen but the beetling rock,
And nought is heard but the ocean-shock,
Sam G. Goodrich
Keep Up Your Promise
Take my arm
and keep up your promise!
They call you the refugeless refuge,
they call you redeemer of outcasts.
To A Bower.
Three times, sweet hawthorn! I have met thy bower,
And thou hast gain'd my love, and I do feel
An aching pain to leave thee: every flower
Around thee opening doth new charms reveal,
The Iliad (bk I)
Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans. Many a brave soul did it send hurrying down to Hades, and many a hero did it yield a prey to dogs and vultures, for so were the counsels of Jove fulfilled from the day on which the son of Atreus, king of men, and great Achilles, first fell out with one another.
And which of the gods was it that set them on to quarrel? It was the son of Jove and Leto; for he was angry with the king and sent a pestilence upon the host to plague the people, because the son of Atreus had dishonoured Chryses his priest. Now Chryses had come to the ships of the Achaeans to free his daughter, and had brought with him a great ransom: moreover he bore in his hand the sceptre of Apollo wreathed with a suppliant's wreath and he besought the Achaeans, but most of all the two sons of Atreus, who were their chiefs.
And we go on and on,
Neither sleeping nor awake,
Towards the meeting, unaware
That we are already there.
To my friend, Ralph Waldo Emerson.
He who could beard the lion in his lair,
Sometime, when all life's lessons have been learned,
And sun and stars forevermore have set,
The things which our weak judgements here have spurned,
The things so'er which we grieved with lashes wet,
May Riley Smith
As thro' the Psalms from theme to theme I chang'd,
Methinks like Eve in Paradice I rang'd;
And ev'ry grace of song I seem'd to see,
As the gay pride of ev'ry season, she.
The Poor Man's Lamb
NOW spent the alter'd King, in am'rous Cares,
The Hours of sacred Hymns and solemn Pray'rs:
In vain the Alter waits his slow returns,
Where unattended Incense faintly burns:
Anne Kingsmill Finch
The tempest calmed after bending the branches of the trees and leaning heavily upon the grain in the field. The stars appeared as broken remnants of lightning, but now silence prevailed over all, as if Nature's war had never been fought.
At that hour a young woman entered her chamber and knelt by her bed sobbing bitterly. Her heart flamed with agony but she could finally open her lips and say, "Oh Lord, bring him home safely to me. I have exhausted my tears and can offer no more, oh Lord, full of love and mercy. My patience is drained and calamity is seeking possession of my heart. Save him, oh Lord, from the iron paws of War; deliver him from such unmerciful Death, for he is weak, governed by the strong. Oh Lord, save my beloved, who is Thine own son, from the foe, who is Thy foe. Keep him from the forced pathway to Death's door; let him see me, or come and take me to him."
Surely Lucy love returns,
Though her meaning's not reveal'd;
Surely love her bosom burns,
Which her coyness keeps conceal'd:
The day is ruined. The sky is drunk.
Like false pearls, little stumps
Of chopped up light lie around and reveal
A glimpse of streets, a few clumps of houses.
Ye blooming youth, possest of every grace,
Which can delight the eye, or please the ear,
Who boast a polish'd mind and faultless face,
Awhile the councils of Philemon hear!
A book which needs to be written is one dealing
with the childhood of authors. It would be
not only interesting, but instructive; not merely
profitable in a general way, but practical in a
_P_. Farewell to Europe, and at once farewell
To all the follies which in Europe dwell;
To Eastern India now, a richer clime,
Richer, alas! in everything but rhyme,
Take of English earth as much
As either hand may rightly clutch.
In the taking of it breathe
Prayer for all who lie beneath.
FAIR OTAHEITE , fondly blest
By him who long was doom'd to brave
The fury of the Polar wave,
That fiercely mounts the frozen rock
Helen Maria Williams
Complaint of desertion and temptations.
Dear Lord! behold our sore distress;
Our sins attempt to reign;
In contact, lo! the flint and steel,
By sharp and flame, the thought reveal
That he the metal, she the stone,
Had cherished secretly alone.
The meal was o'er, the lamp was lit,
The family sat in its glow;
The Mother never ceased to knit,
The Daughter never slacked to sew;
In vain, when musicâ??s seraph-fire
Runs kindling through the air,
Making it such as gods respire,
(And gods perhaps are there!)
A barge adrift the Perfumed River-
reclining beneath a parasol
is the courtesan Tigress waving her fan
-barge floats past village and pagoda,
S. K. Kelen
Each race has died and lived and fought for the
“true” gods of that poor race,
Unconsciously, divinest thought of each race gild-
ing its god's face.
Dick And Edward
The Thurso baker, Robert Dick,
Armed with his hammer and his pick,
Dame nature's secrets did reveal,
Which she for ages did conceal.