all poems are mine unless otherwise stated.
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Brief essays on poetry: considering a poem and how it reveals the world and the human experience. Find the text of the poems featured and the podcast script on MarilynOnaRoll.wordpress.com.
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Long Poems Collection 1: a collection of 5 public-domain poems longer than 5 minutes in length.
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Sometimes piano, sometimes guitar, sometimes spoken meditation. Thanks for listening. If you have questions, comments, or feedback of any kind, email darkoindex at gmail dot com.
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We All Speak In Poems is an interview based podcast by Alaskan Tapes and Chantal. We try to chat with as many inspiring and creative people as possible. Take a listen and be transported into the worlds of your favourite Artists, Musicians, Authors, and more.
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“100 Poets, 100 Poems,” is a Ceylon Press "Poetry From The Jungle" podcast. Recorded in the dense Kandyan jungle, it presents a spirited new view on the world’s most gratifying classic poetry. The selection may appear to be random, contrary and wilful – but, like the jungle itself - within which the list was made and recorded - an ordered artful and invisible balance links each poet and poem.
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It's random poetry.
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Welcome to Artipod, where the artistic side of words and memories meets the joy of self-expression. I'm Besart, your host, and on this podcast I share my love for writing by bringing my emotions in the form of poems a bit closer to your life. Join me on this expression through the verses. Each episode will be a heartfelt exploration of thoughts, memories and emotions. Artipod is a space where the simplicity of spoken words in combination with the depth that sounds bring forms a narrative tha ...
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RYK®
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This podcast presents you hindi poems by dreamer poet
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These are real-life experiences involving people and places. Experiences which you can share with friends one time, every time. These are based on true incidents, anecdotes, and exciting experiences. Simple narrative but highly relatable. Listen to them and you will find a reflection of your friends, your place and your experiences in them. On the side, there is heart-felt poems, true to life narrative and all original content which is relatable to all. Follow us on Instagram https://instagr ...
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This is a volume of Canadian poet Arthur Weir. Many of the poems are set around the turn of a year, referencing the season in different ways, and touching upon almost every emotion and association we might connect with winter. - Summary by Carolin
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Poets potions poems. ..,Listen, & you let us know??
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हैलो दोस्तों, मेरा नाम सूरज कुमार है और मैं यहाँ अपनी लिखी हिन्दी में कवितायें और कहानियाँ डालूँगा।
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Poetry via voicemail. Missed calls you need to hear. Open submissions accepted. Guidelines at http://voicemailpoems.org
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Welcome to Talia's Room, where amazing things happen.
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Listening to inspiring poems makes you think. In this podcast, hopefully you will think about the morals of these poems, and in general, the beauty of the structure of the poems.
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Original Work VIETNAMESE poems. THIÊN ĐƯỜNG MƠ Đây là bài thơ đầu tiên tôi đã làm khi Sống tại USA, nhớ lại tư tưởng của tuổi bé thơ đầy mơ mộng thần tiên, nay đã trưởng thành cảm nhận được đời thực tế trong thế gian này.
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Listen Hindi Poems Read Poems on our Website :- https://kavyapal.blogspot.com Follow us on Facebook :- https://www.facebook.com/kavyapalofficial Follow us on Twitter:- https://twitter.com/kavyapal_Poems Follow us on Instagram:- https://www.instagram.com/kavyapal_poems
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You will get here some really awesome poems which you can relate with!
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Podcast which discusses two powerful poems and the issues that they contain.
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Poems to experience my mind Poems to translate my words or my thoughts
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I write poems and really love poems in hindi. I hope you will also love to listen them.
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My Nanna is my ultimate best friend. We share a love for music, poetry, and arts. Her words are always lovely and deep and full of emotions. Let me share some of our favorite poems through this podcast show.
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19th Century Period Poetry and Prose Recited by M. Hoffman
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Poems for Children
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POEMS! Cover art photo provided by Clark Tibbs on Unsplash: https://unsplash.com/@clarktibbs
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Welcome! On this podcast I assemble and read my favorite poems for my favorite gumby. Cover art photo provided by Ksenia Makagonova on Unsplash: https://unsplash.com/@dearseymour
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Podcast by Poems of Places
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The cool poems of the internet by Carson Taylor
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This is my first podcast, please have fun listening and give feedback :)
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An eclectic collection of my poetry, congealed together in a plastic tub.
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Language is an art, poetry a boon... I write my poems in both traditional verse forms and free verse form in my mother tongue Tamil. I have assumed the pseudonym Vennkotran. Listen to my poems rendered in my own voice and let me know your comments...
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Quick intro
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Welcome to Henry Adams, where amazing things happen.
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In this show I introduce the roles of sociology and poetry in our lives, from co-existing and conveying messages to social norms and behaviors.
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I am Kaitlyn Castles, and this is Hit or Miss Poems.
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Spoken Word pieces & Creative Stories
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Sit back, relax, and enjoy a cup of tea.
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Welcome to Lilianah Haddad, where amazing things happen. Cover art photo provided by Daniel Olah on Unsplash: https://unsplash.com/@danesduet
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I love writing poetry if you enjoy poetry I got you because this is Pen Pad Poems. Thank you so much for listening spread the word.
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Malayalam poems by K,. S Thomas ( poet) Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/joseph-thomas65/support
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Bangkok's Home for Poetry
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I keep a running list of things I hear people say that sound like poems. I'm turning them into poems
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Each week Dr. J shares a poem from one of the nineteenth-century American Fireside Poets, reading it aloud and commenting on it to enhance the listener’s enjoyment of the poem.
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Readings of poems classical and contemporary, selected and performed by Mischa Willett, author of PHASES.
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Welcome to the Chong’s Podcast of Grant’s Poems podcast, where amazing things happen.
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After my third shot of tequila / chased by a lime sour as my rant: fuck this-fuck that-fuck them-fuck me-fuck it all / you slashed me / same as your poems’ slashes / slash me / when you asked me: so, why the fuck don’t you ever say it in your poems / I took another shot but couldn’t shoot out a reason / until now, Jan / you’re right, so / fuck \ th…
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Share Your Thoughts With Me. Hello… just hello! This is more for me than just for you! My working crew My mind, my heart My muscles my thoughts About everything that i gave And all that i received About me being the straightforward Calm not twisted, Ever ready to fight your fights Ever ready to believe your side of the story Ever ready for your dre…
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The self and the Other as one explored in this poem by Phil Metres.marmccabe
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Send us a text You are always apprehensive if you get a call from an unknown number. That's where true caller comes to your help these days. You associate a name with the number and you feel a little more comfortable answering a call. But what if the identity given by true caller turns out to be a scare. Listen to this Kissa and find out what happe…
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Breathing while driving. 2025.
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More great books at LoyalBooks.comVarious
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#39 - Jogging House
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Welcome back to another episode of We All Speak In Poems, today we've got Jogging House on! We're exploring the early musical influences that shaped Jogging House's career, and the gear used in the early days. As well as the origin of the name 'Jogging House', and the journey of releasing music, including the establishment of Seil Records. He gives…
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When sorrow lays us low for a second we are saved by humble windfalls of the mindfulness or memory: the taste of a fruit, the taste of water, that face given back to us by a dream, the first jasmine of November, the endless yearning of the compass, a book we thought was lost, the throb of a hexameter, the slight key that opens a house to us, the sm…
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You might say the streets flow sweetly through the night. The lights are dim so the secret will be kept, the secret known by the men who come and go, for they’re all in on the secret and why break it up in a thousand pieces when it’s so sweet to hold it close, and share it only with the one chosen person. If, at a given moment, everyone would say w…
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I woke in the night and thought, It was a dream, nothing has torn the future apart, we have not lived years in dread, it never happened, I dreamed it all. And then there was this sensation of terrific pressure lifting, as if I were rising in one of those old diving bells, lightening, unburdening. I didn’t know how heavy my life had become—so much f…
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All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms. Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to sch…
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To you I have given wings, on which you may fly aloft Above the boundless sea and all the earth With ease. At feasts and banquets you will be present On all occasions, lying in the mouths of many, And to the clear-toned sound of pipes young men With seemly grace and loveliness, their voices fair and clear, Will sing of you. And when beneath the hol…
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Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles today Tomorrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he’s a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he’s to setting. That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, a…
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On a northern peak among white clouds You have found your hermitage of peace; And now, as I climb this mountain to see you, High with the wildgeese flies my heart. The quiet dusk might seem a little sad If this autumn weather were not so brisk and clear; I look down at the river bank, with homeward-bound villagers Resting on the sand till the ferry…
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When spring begins and the ice-locked streams begin To flow down from the snowy hills above And the clods begin to crumble in the breeze, The time has come for my groaning ox to drag My heavy plow across the fields, so that The plow blade shines as the furrow rubs against it. Not till the earth has been twice plowed, so twice Exposed to sun and twi…
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What will you do, God, when I die? I am your jar (if cracked, I lie?) Your well-spring (if the well go dry?) I am your craft, your vesture I— You lose your purport, losing me. When I go, your cold house will be Empty of words that made it sweet. I am the sandals your bare feet Will seek and long for, wearily. Your cloak will fall from aching bones.…
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I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air, Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their…
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There was Dai Puw. He was no good. They put him in the fields to dock swedes, And took the knife from him, when he came home At late evening with a grin Like the slash of a knife on his face. There was Llew Puw, and he was no good. Every evening after the ploughing With the big tractor he would sit in his chair, And stare into the tangled fire gard…
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In addition there is fashioned there an ancient fisherman and a rock, a rugged rock, on which with might and main the old man poises a great net for the cast as one who puts his whole heart into it. One would say that he was fishing with the full strength of his limbs so big do his muscles stand out about the neck. Gray-haired though he be, he has …
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I think continually of those who were truly great. Who, from the womb, remembered the soul’s history Through corridors of light, where the hours are suns, Endless and singing. Whose lovely ambition Was that their lips, still touched with fire, Should tell of the Spirit, clothed from head to foot in song. And who hoarded from the Spring branches The…
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Here stood our ancestral home: The crumbling wall marks the spot. Here a sheep was led to slaugther To appease the gods and atone For faults which our destiny Has blossomed into crimes. There my cursed father once stood And shouted at us, his children. To come back from our play To our evening meal and sleep. The clouds are thickening in the red sk…
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Tenderly, day that I have loved, I close your eyes, And smooth your quiet brow, and fold your thin dead hands. The grey veils of the half-light deepen; colour dies. I bear you, a light burden, to the shrouded sands, Where lies your waiting boat, by wreaths of the sea's making Mist-garlanded, with all grey weeds of the water crowned. There you'll be…
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Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me – The Carriage held but just Ourselves – And Immortality. We slowly drove – He knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my leisure too, For His Civility – We passed the School, where Children strove At Recess – in the Ring – We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain – We passed the Setti…
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Child, how happy you are sitting in the dust, playing with a broken twig all the morning. I smile at your play with that little bit of a broken twig. I am busy with my accounts, adding up figures by the hour. Perhaps you glance at me and think, "What a stupid game to spoil your morning with!" Child, I have forgotten the art of being absorbed in sti…
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The force that through the green fuse drives the flower Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees Is my destroyer. And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose My youth is bent by the same wintry fever. The force that drives the water through the rocks Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams Turns mine to wax. And I am dumb to mout…
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I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. I feel my fate in what I cannot fear. I learn by going where I have to go. We think by feeling. What is there to know? I hear my being dance from ear to ear. I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. Of those so close beside me, which are you? God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there, And learn by go…
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Like a skein of loose silk blown against a wall She walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens, And she is dying piece-meal of a sort of emotional anemia. And round about there is a rabble Of the filthy, sturdy, unkillable infants of the very poor. They shall inherit the earth. In her is the end of breeding. Her boredom is exquisite and e…
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I have done it again. One year in every ten I manage it—— A sort of walking miracle, my skin Bright as a Nazi lampshade, My right foot A paperweight, My face a featureless, fine Jew linen. Peel off the napkin O my enemy. Do I terrify?—— The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth? The sour breath Will vanish in a day. Soon, soon the flesh The gra…
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Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning: I was much further out than you thought And not waving but drowning. Poor chap, he always loved larking And now he’s dead It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way, They said. Oh, no no no, it was too cold always (Still the dead one lay moaning) I was much too far out all my life…
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When at break of day at a riverside I hear the jungle drums telegraphing the mystic rhythm, urgent, rawlike bleeding flesh, speaking of primal youth and the beginning I see the panther ready to pounce the leopard snarling about to leapand the hunters crouch with spears poised; And my blood ripples, turns torrent, topples the years and at once I’min…
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I caught this morning morning's minion, king- dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing, As a skate's heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding Rebuf…
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In the courtyard a shower of peach petals piles deep; Wandering orioles cry out on a magnolia tree near the fence. Through tasseled silk curtains the spring cold seeps in; From the censer a list of burning incense gently curls. A beautiful girl woken from sleep makes up her face anew; Fine girdle of fragrant silk, patterned with ducks. She rolls up…
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Go and catch a falling star, Get with child a mandrake root, Tell me where all past years are, Or who cleft the devil's foot, Teach me to hear mermaids singing, Or to keep off envy's stinging, And find What wind Serves to advance an honest mind. If thou be'st born to strange sights, Things invisible to see, Ride ten thousand days and nights, Till a…
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The moon is playing hide-and-seek Behind the clouds. A mellow smile Lingers on the lips of the sky Tides tease and tangle At the water's edge. The buck eyes The doe with a deep, alluring passion Sun mo bi, Ologuro I am in the mood for love tonight I can hear pigeons cooing In their coop. I can hear alapandede Swapping notes in the shady eaves Oge t…
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Green, how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches. The ship out on the sea and the horse on the mountain. With the shade around her waist she dreams on her balcony, green flesh, her hair green, with eyes of cold silver. Green, how I want you green. Under the gypsy moon, all things are watching her and she cannot see them. Green, how I want yo…
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I knew a simple soldier boy Who grinned at life in empty joy, Slept soundly through the lonesome dark, And whistled early with the lark. In winter trenches, cowed and glum, With crumps and lice and lack of rum, He put a bullet through his brain. No one spoke of him again. You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye Who cheer when soldier lads march by,…
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Matchless in breeding and beauty, a fine lady has taken refuge in this forsaken valley. She is of good family, she says, but her fortune has withered away; now she lives as the grass and trees. When the heartlands fell to the rebels her brothers were put to death; birth and position availed nothing-- she was not even allowed to bring home their bon…
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Part I On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And thro' the field the road runs by To many-tower'd Camelot; The yellow-leaved waterlily The green-sheathed daffodilly Tremble in the water chilly Round about Shalott. Willows whiten, aspens shiver. The sunbeam showers break and quiver In t…
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The cry of the cicada Gives us no sign That presently they will die. ENJOY MORE A small island encircled by formidable oceans, Sri Lanka is a mystery to many: remote, hard to place; a well-kept secret. The Ceylon Press seeks to make its complicated story more accessible. The Press publishes a range of podcasts including The History Of Sri Lanka; th…
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I have lit my treasured candles, one by one, to hallow this night. With you, who do not come, I wait the birth of the year. Dear God! the flame has drowned in crystal, and the wine, like poison, burns Old malice bites the air, old ravings rave again, though the hour has not yet struck. Dread. Bottomless dread… I am that shadow on the threshold defe…
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Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. T…
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In summer's heat and mid-time of the day, To rest my limbs upon a bed I lay, One window shut, the other open stood, Which gave such light as twinkles in a wood Like twilight glimpse at setting of the sun, Or night being past and yet not day begun. Such light to shamefaced maidens must be shown, Where they may sport, and seem to be unknown. Then cam…
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Of that love, of that mile walked together in the rain, only a weariness remains. I am that stranger now my mirror holds to me; the moment's silence hardly moves across the glass. I pity myself in another's guise. And no one's back here, no one I can recognize, and from my side I see nothing. Years have passed since I sat with you, watching the sky…
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I am: yet what I am none cares or knows, My friends forsake me like a memory lost; I am the self-consumer of my woes, They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost; And yet I am! and live with shadows tost Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, Into the living sea of waking dreams, Where there is neither se…
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In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round; And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; And here were forests anc…
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I That is no country for old men. The young In one another’s arms, birds in the trees, —Those dying generations—at their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unageing intellect. II An aged man is bu…
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There is a place where the sidewalk ends And before the street begins, And there the grass grows soft and white, And there the sun burns crimson bright, And there the moon-bird rests from his flight To cool in the peppermint wind. Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends. Past the pits where the asphal…
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What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare. No time to stand beneath the boughs And stare as long as sheep or cows. No time to see, when woods we pass, Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass. No time to see, in broad daylight, Streams full of stars, like skies at night. No time to turn at Beauty's glance, And watch her…
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Here he is, my good old friend! He's at Yellow Crane Terrace on a western departure. And--we're saying goodbye, goodbye. He's in a cloud of third-month blossoms. He's off downstream to Yang-chou. That shadow there is his lonely sail. Now there's nothing left of it. All the blue is empty now. All you can see is that long, long river. It flows to the…
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Some say thronging cavalry, some say foot soldiers, others call a fleet the most beautiful of sights the dark earth offers, but I say it's what- ever you love best. And it's easy to make this understood by everyone, for she who surpassed all human kind in beauty, Helen, abandoning her husband—that best of men—went sailing off to the shores of Troy …
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