Two children in two neighbor villages Playing mad pranks along the heathy leas; Two strangers meeting at a festival; Two lovers whispering by an orchard wall: Two lives bound fast in one with golden ease;...
Talk not to me of souls that do conceive Sublime ideals, but, deterred by Fate And bound by circumstances, sit desolate, And long for heights they never can achieve. ...
Tim Murphy's gon' walkin' wid Maggie O'Neill, O chone! If I was her muther, I'd frown on sich foolin', O chone! I'm sure it's unmutherlike, darin' an' wrong...
Cities and Thrones and Powers Stand in Time's eye, Almost as long as flowers, Which daily die: But, as new buds put forth To glad new men, Out of the spent and unconsidered Earth...
Where are the cabalists, the insidious committees, The panders who betray the idiot cities For miles and miles toward the prairie sprawled, Ignorant, soul-less, rich, Smothered in fumes of pitch? ...
'Gillian's dead, God rest her bier, How I loved her many years syne; Marion's married, but I sit here, Alive and merry at three-score year, Dipping my nose in Gascoigne wine.' - Wamba's Song, Thackeray....
Argument. - The poet starts from the Bowling Green to take his sweetheart up to Thompson's for an ice, or (if she is inclined for more) ices. He confines his muse to matters which any every-day man and young woman may see in ta...
City of orgies, walks and joys! City whom that I have lived and sung in your midst will one day make you illustrious, Not the pageants of you--not your shifting tableaux, your spectacles, repay me;...
City of ships! (O the black ships! O the fierce ships! O the beautiful, sharp-bow'd steam-ships and sail-ships!) City of the world! (for all races are here;...
"From the indigo straits to Ossian's seas, on pink and orange sands washed by the vinous sky, crystal boulevards have just arisen and crossed, immoderately inhabitedby poor young families who get their food at the green grocers...
As the blind Milton's memory of light, The deaf Beethoven's phantasy of tone, Wrought joys for them surpassing all things known In our restricted sphere of sound and sight, -...
Foulest brute that stinks below, Why in this brown dost thou appear? For wouldst thou make a fouler show, Thou must go naked all the year. Fresh from the mud, a wallowing sow...
The sunlight that makes of the heaven A pathway for sylphids to throng; The wind that makes harps of the forests For spirits to smite into song, Are the image and voice of a vision...
In the little Crimson Manual it's written plain and clear That who would wear the scarlet coat shall say good-bye to fear; Shall be a guardian of the right, a sleuth-hound of the trail -...
I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago, He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him,...
The most appropriate comment, besides pig knuckles on racks & rabbits skewered on prongs or the Chinese lettering playing tricks with your Occidental eyes, is the Breakfast at Tiffany's...
In the market of Clare, so cheery the glare Of the shops and the booths of the tradespeople there; That I take a delight on a Saturday night In walking that way and in viewing the sight....