Poetry Books
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Anonymous
Punky Dunk on a day in the middle of MayLooked around like a wise little cat,And he said with surprise: "Can I trust my own eyes?Well, what do you know about that?" For a wagon of blue, with a man in blue, too,At the sidewalk was just backing up.And the man brought a crate that was heavy of weightAnd inside was a gay spotted pup. Now Punky felt hurt as he gazed very pertAt the gay spotted pup...
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Thomas Purney
INTRODUCTION In the preface to each of his volumes of pastorals (Pastorals. After the simple Manner of Theocritus, 1717; Pastorals. viz. The Bashful Swain: and Beauty and Simplicity, 1717) Thomas Purney rushed into critical discussions with the breathlessness of one impatient to reveal his opinions, and, after touching on a variety of significant topics, cut himself short with the promise of a future...
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Alfred Noyes
I. STEADFAST as any soldier of the line He served his England, with the imminent death Poised at his heart. Nor could the world divine The constant peril of each burdened breath. England, and the honour of England, he still served Walking the strict path, with the old high pride Of those invincible knights who never swerved One hair's breadth from the way until they died. Quietness he loved, and...
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James Joyce
I Strings in the earth and airMake music sweet;Strings by the river whereThe willows meet. There's music along the riverFor Love wanders there,Pale flowers on his mantle,Dark leaves on his hair. All softly playing,With head to the music bent,And fingers strayingUpon an instrument. The twilight turns from amethystTo deep and deeper blue,The lamp fills with a pale green glowThe trees of the avenue....
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Anonymous
THE THREE BEARS. THERE were once three bears, who lived in a wood,Their porridge was thick, and their chairs and beds good.The biggest bear, Bruin, was surly and rough;His wife, Mrs. Bruin, was called Mammy Muff.Their son, Tiny-cub, was like Dame Goose’s lad;He was not very good, nor yet very bad.Now Bruin, the biggest—the surly old bear—Had a great granite bowl, and a cast-iron chair.Mammy Muffs...
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CANTO XVIII THERE is a place within the depths of hellCall'd Malebolge, all of rock dark-stain'dWith hue ferruginous, e'en as the steepThat round it circling winds. Right in the midstOf that abominable region, yawnsA spacious gulf profound, whereof the frameDue time shall tell. The circle, that remains,Throughout its round, between the gulf and baseOf the high craggy banks,...
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J. J. Howard
THEFirst BookOF THEMETAMORPHOSESOFOVID. From bodies various form'd, mutative shapesMy Muse would sing:—Celestial powers give aid!From you those changes sprung,—inspire my pen;Connect each period of my venturous songUnsever'd, from old Chaös' rude misrule,Till now the world beneath Augustus smiles. While yet nor earth nor sea their place possest,Nor that cerulean...
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Sara Teasdale
Memories II Places Old Tunes "Only in Sleep" Redbirds Sunset: St. Louis The Coin The Voice III Day and Night Compensation I Remembered "Oh You Are Coming" The Return Gray Eyes The Net The Mystery In a Hospital IV Open Windows The New Moon Eight O'Clock Lost Things Pain The Broken Field The Unseen A Prayer V...
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PREFACE There are two great traditions of womanhood. One presents the Madonna brooding over the mystery of motherhood; the other, more confusedly, tells of the acolyte, the priestess, the clairvoyante of the unknown gods. This latter exists complete in herself, a personality as definite and as significant as a symbol. She is behind all the processes of art, though she rarely becomes a conscious artist,...
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Doris Hayman
LONGFELLOW'S POEMS IN PROSE he home of the American poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, during the greater part of his life was in the picturesque town of Cambridge, Massachusetts, and there many of his best known poems were written. The forge of the Village Blacksmith really stood there beneath the shelter of a "spreading chestnut tree," in Cambridge, and when, as the town grew larger, the...
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