NG friends is not a pomp, Not, indeed,
Roman: Lacking the monument, Heroic stone; Nor is it an obscuring parasol, The pad of customary gloves and cries And a black leather mourning-carriage Hung between death and the beholder's eyes
This...
Roman: Lacking the monument, Heroic stone; Nor is it an obscuring parasol, The pad of customary gloves and cries And a black leather mourning-carriage Hung between death and the beholder's eyes
This...
OD roaring pistol-boys, brave lads of gold, Good roistering easy maids, blown cock-a-hoop On floods of tavern-steam,
I greet you
Drunk With wild Canary, drowned in wines of old, I'll swear your round, red faces dive and swim Like clouds ...
I greet you
Drunk With wild Canary, drowned in wines of old, I'll swear your round, red faces dive and swim Like clouds ...
NG hunger and cold, feeling Food, feeling fire, feeling Pity and pain, tasting Time in a kiss, tasting Anger and tears, touching Eyelids with lips, touching Plague, touching flesh, knowing Blood in the mouth, knowing Laughter like flame, holding P...
So quiet it was in that high, sun-steeped room,
So warm and still, that sometimes with the
Through the great windows, bright with bottle-panes,
Thereβd float a chime from clock-jacks out of sight, Clapping iron mallets on green copp...
So warm and still, that sometimes with the
Through the great windows, bright with bottle-panes,
Thereβd float a chime from clock-jacks out of sight, Clapping iron mallets on green copp...
Thief of the moon, thou robber of old delight,
Thy charms have stolen the star-gold, quenched the moon- Cold, cold are the birds that, bubbling out of night,
Cried once to my ears their unremembered tune- Dark are those orchards, their l...
Thy charms have stolen the star-gold, quenched the moon- Cold, cold are the birds that, bubbling out of night,
Cried once to my ears their unremembered tune- Dark are those orchards, their l...
The Snowdrop Girl in fields of snowdrops walks,
Whiter than foam, deeper than waters flowing,
Flakes of wild milk gone blowing,
Snowing on cloudy stalks
Whiter than foam, deeper than waters flowing,
Flakes of wild milk gone blowing,
Snowing on cloudy stalks
I
AT street washed with violet Writes like a tablet Of living here; that pavement Is the metal embodiment Of living here; those terraces Filled with dumb presences Lobbed over mattresses, Lusts and repentances, Ardours and solaces, Passions a...
AT street washed with violet Writes like a tablet Of living here; that pavement Is the metal embodiment Of living here; those terraces Filled with dumb presences Lobbed over mattresses, Lusts and repentances, Ardours and solaces, Passions a...
