Category: Poetry
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“What the Goose-Girl Said About the Dean” by EDITH SITWELL (1887 – 1964)
“Whence he lies snoring like the moon Clownish-white all afternoon. Beneath the trees’ arsenical Sharp woodwind tunes; heretical— Blown like the wind’s mane (Creaking woodenly again).”
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“Bells in the Rain” by Elinor Wylie (1885 – 1928)
“Peace falls unheeded on the dead Asleep; they have had deep peace to drink; Upon a live man’s bloody head It falls most tenderly, I think.”
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“Wynken, Blynken, and Nod” by Eugene Field (1850–1895)
“The old moon laughed and sang a song, As they rocked in the wooden shoe, And the wind that sped them all night long Ruffled the waves of dew.”
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“I was born upon they bank, river” by Henry David Thoreau (1817 – 1862)
“I was born upon thy bank, river” by Henry David Thoreau I was born upon thy bank, river, My blood flows in thy stream, And thou meanderest forever At the bottom of my dream.
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“To Her Father with Some Verses” by Anne Bradstreet (1612 – 1672)
To Her Father with Some Verses BY ANNE BRADSTREET Most truly honoured, and as truly dear, If worth in me or ought I do appear, Who can of right better demand the same Than may your worthy self from whom it came? The principal might yield a greater sum, Yet handled ill, amounts but to…
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“Sonnet 18— Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day?” by William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? (Sonnet 18) by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE Image Source: Wikipedia.org
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“Differences of Opinion” by WENDY COPE
“She tries her best to prove him wrong. But he has learned to argue well…”
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“Instruction” by HAZEL HALL (1886 – 1924)
Instruction By HAZEL HALL My hands that guide a needle In their turn are led Relentlessly and deftly As a needle leads a thread. Other hands are teaching My needle: when I sew I feel the cool, thin fingers Of hands I do not know. They urge my needle onward. They smooth my seams. until…
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“White Branches” by HAZEL HALL (1886 – 1924)
White Branches By HAZEL HALL I had forgotten the gesture of branches Suddenly white, And I had forgotten the fragrance of blossoms Filling a room at night. In remembering the curve of branches Who beckoned me in vain, Remembering dark rooms of coolness Where fragrance was like pain, I have forgotten all else; there is…