To exalt, enthrone, establish and… To welcome home mankind’s mysterio… Wine, true begetter of all arts th… Wine, privilege of the completely… Wine the recorder; wine the sagely…
The moon on the one hand, the dawn… The moon is my sister, the dawn is… The moon on my left and the dawn o… My brother, good morning: my siste…
The parents of the learned child (His father and his mother) Were utterly aghast to note The facts he would at random quote On creatures curious, rare, and wi…
The north-cast wind has come from… Roaring he came above the white wa… The foam of the loud sea was on hi… And all his hair was salt with fal… Over the keen light of northern da…
The Microbe is so very small You cannot make him out at all, But many sanguine people hope To see him through a microscope. His jointed tongue that lies benea…
Wherever the Catholic sun doth sh… There’s always laughter and good r… At least I’ve always found it so. Benedicamus Domino!
Hoar Time about the house betakes… Seeking an entry for his weariness… And in that dreadful company distr… And the sad night with silent foot… On my poor fire the brands are sca…
When I am dead, I hope it may be… ‘His sins were scarlet, but his bo…
The soldier month, the bulwark of… That never more shall hear such vi… He stands apparent with his heaven… And helmeted of grand Etruscan go… Our harvest is the bounty he has w…
Lump says that Caliban’s of gutte… And Caliban says Lump’s a fool in… And Caliban and Lump and I are a…
When we are dead, some Hunting-bo… And find a stone half-hidden in ta… And grey with age: but having seen… (Which was your image), ride more…
Do you remember an Inn, Miranda? Do you remember an Inn? And the tedding and the spreading Of the straw for a bedding,
As a friend to the children commen… You will find it exactly the thing… It will carry and fetch, you can r… Or lead it about with a string. The Tartar who dwells on the plai…
And is it True? It is not True. And if it were it wouldn’t do, For people such as me and you Who pretty nearly all day long Are doing something rather wrong.
I will not try to reach again, I will not set my sail alone, To moor a boat bereft of men At Yarnton’s tiny docks of stone. But I will sit beside the fire,
