last - Popular Poems and stories from category

That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now; Fra Pandolf’s hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.

It is usualfor people in this country(out of pretended respectbut rather from an impertinent curiosity)to desire to seepersonsafter they aredead
It is my earnest request that no personon any pretence whatevermay be permitted to see mycorpsebu...

When lilacs last in the door-yard bloom’d,
And the great star early droop’d in the western sky in the night,
I mourn’d—and yet shall mourn with ever-returning -returning spring
trinity sure to me you bring;

Last time,
I think,
I'll brush the fliesfrom my father's face
Translated by Robert Hass

There were thirty million English who talked of England's might,
There were twenty broken troopers who lacked a bed for the night
They had neither food nor money, they had neither service nor trade;
They were only shiftless soldiers...

With never a sound of trumpet,
With never a flag displayed,
The last of the old
Lined up for the last parade

Come, let us tell the weeds in
How we are poor, who once had riches,
And lie out in the sparse and
Pastures that the cows have trodden,

I dreamt I was in love again With the One Before the Last,
And smiled to greet the pleasant pain Of that innocent young past
But I jumped to feel how sharp had been The pain when it did live,
How the faded dreams of Nineteen-ten Wer...

The roses of love glad the garden of life, Though nurtured 'mid weeds dropping pestilent dew,
Till time crops the leaves with unmerciful knife, Or prunes them for ever, in love's last adieu
In vain, with endearments, we soothe the sad he...

Love hath a chamber all of imagery;
And there is one dim nook,
A little storied web wherein my
From leaf to leaf is read as in a book

Comrades, if I don't live to see the day— I mean,if I die before freedom comes —take me awayand bury me in a village cemetery in Anatolia
The worker Osman whom Hassan Bey ordered shotcan lie on one side of me, and on the other sidethe martyr ...

A spiral of green hay on the end of a rake:
The moment is sweat and sun-prick---children and old women Big in a tiny field, midgets against the mountain,
So toy-like yet so purposed you could take This for the Middle Ages