MODERN AMERICAN POETRY1921 |
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Сторінка 14
... round us When a cuss in his death - grip turned ! Till along toward dusk I seen a thing I couldn't believe for a spell : That nigger - that Tim - was a crawlin ' to me Through that fire - proof , gilt - edged hell ! The Rebels seen him ...
... round us When a cuss in his death - grip turned ! Till along toward dusk I seen a thing I couldn't believe for a spell : That nigger - that Tim - was a crawlin ' to me Through that fire - proof , gilt - edged hell ! The Rebels seen him ...
Сторінка 24
... round , brown , liquid , pleading eyes , That turn'd so slow and sad to you , That shone like love's eyes soft with tears , That seem'd to plead , and make replies , The while they bow'd their necks and drew The creaking load ; and ...
... round , brown , liquid , pleading eyes , That turn'd so slow and sad to you , That shone like love's eyes soft with tears , That seem'd to plead , and make replies , The while they bow'd their necks and drew The creaking load ; and ...
Сторінка 35
... round as a hole in the ground ; Weasels are wavy and sleek ; And no alligator could ever be straighter Than lizards that live in a creek . But a Camel's all lumpy And bumpy and humpy- ANY SHAPE does for me ! " ROBINSON CRUSOE'S STORY ...
... round as a hole in the ground ; Weasels are wavy and sleek ; And no alligator could ever be straighter Than lizards that live in a creek . But a Camel's all lumpy And bumpy and humpy- ANY SHAPE does for me ! " ROBINSON CRUSOE'S STORY ...
Сторінка 46
... round So softly and so creepy - like they never make a sound ! Sometimes they are as black as ink , an ' other times they're white- But color ain't no difference when you see things at night ! Once , when I licked a feller ' at had just ...
... round So softly and so creepy - like they never make a sound ! Sometimes they are as black as ink , an ' other times they're white- But color ain't no difference when you see things at night ! Once , when I licked a feller ' at had just ...
Сторінка 74
... round into all time and all men , Pledging my love to countless surrenders and repeals . O MY DEAD COMRADE ( for W. W. ) O my dead comrade - my great dead ! I sat by your bedside - it was the close of day— I heard the drip of the rain ...
... round into all time and all men , Pledging my love to countless surrenders and repeals . O MY DEAD COMRADE ( for W. W. ) O my dead comrade - my great dead ! I sat by your bedside - it was the close of day— I heard the drip of the rain ...
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a-sailin ain't American Amy Lowell banjo beauty bekase beneath birds Blessing the Dance blue boomlay born Chicago Poems Chrismus Christmas-Night color COMPANY-for dark dawn death dream E. W. Kemble earth Edgar Lee Masters eyes flowers Frost George Edward Woodberry glory gwine ha'r hand heart hills Imagists Irwin Russell Joel Chandler Harris John Gould Fletcher light Lindsay literary literature lived Lowell Macmillan Company Mahsr Masters moon negro never nigger night Noah Orleans poems poet poetry published rain Reprinted by permission rhyme ribber Robinson rose Russell died Sandburg Sara Teasdale shine silence silver sing sleep smile Smoke song soul spirit Spoon River Anthology stars sweet things thought to-night trail trees tune verse voice volume we's doin Whitman whut wuz wild William Rose Benét wind wood writing wukin York
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Сторінка 92 - There where it is we do not need the wall: He is all pine and I am apple orchard. My apple trees will never get across And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him. He only says, "Good fences make good neighbors.
Сторінка 30 - And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens, And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence ; O, it's then's the times a feller is a-feelin' at his best, With the risin...
Сторінка 58 - Miniver mourned the ripe renown That made so many a name so fragrant; He mourned Romance, now on the town, And Art a vagrant. Miniver loved the Medici, Albeit he had never seen one; He would have sinned incessantly Could he have been one.
Сторінка 113 - When Abraham Lincoln was shoveled into the tombs, he forgot the copperheads and the assassin ... in the dust, in the cool tombs. And Ulysses Grant lost all thought of con men and Wall Street, cash and collateral turned ashes ... in the dust, in the cool tombs. Pocahontas' body, lovely as a poplar, sweet as a red haw in November or a pawpaw in May, did she wonder? does she remember? ... in the dust, in the cool tombs?
Сторінка 35 - And his musket moulds in his hands. Time was when the little toy dog was new, And the soldier was passing fair; And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue Kissed them and put them there. "Now, don't you go till I come,
Сторінка 20 - Abide, abide,' The willful waterweeds held me thrall, The laving laurel turned my tide, The ferns and the fondling grass said 'Stay,' The dewberry dipped for to work delay, And the little reeds sighed 'Abide, abide, Here in the hills of Habersham, Here in the valleys of Hall.
Сторінка 259 - I have a rendezvous with Death At some disputed barricade, When Spring comes back with rustling shade And apple-blossoms fill the air — I have a rendezvous with Death When Spring brings back blue days and fair. It may be he shall take my hand And lead me into his dark land And close my eyes and quench my breath — It may be I shall pass him still. I have a rendezvous with Death On some scarred slope of battered hill, When Spring comes round again this year And the first meadow-flowers appear.
Сторінка 19 - Out of the hills of Habersham, Down the valleys of Hall, I hurry amain to reach the plain, Run the rapid and leap the fall, Split at the rock and together again, Accept my bed, or narrow or wide, And flee from folly on every side With a lover's pain to attain the plain Far from the hills of Habersham, Far from the valleys of Hall.
Сторінка 40 - What gulfs between him and the seraphim! Slave of the wheel of labor, what to him Are Plato and the swing of Pleiades? What the long reaches of the peaks of song, The rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose?
Сторінка 105 - To the top branches, climbing carefully With the same pains you use to fill a cup Up to the brim, and even above the brim. Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish, Kicking his way down through the air to the ground. .« So was I once myself a swinger of birches.