#English #XXCentury
Back from the line one night in J… I gave a dinner at Bethune— Seven courses, the most gorgeous m… Money could buy or batman steal. Five hungry lads welcomed the fish
As Jane walked out below the hill… She saw an old man standing still, His eyes in tranced sorrow bound On the broad stretch of barren gro… His limbs were knarled like aged t…
Beauty in trouble flees to the goo… On whom she can rely To pay her cab—fare, run a steamin… Poultice her bruised eye; Will not at first, whether for sha…
Listen now this time Shortly to my rhyme That herewith starts About certain kind hearts In those stricken parts
Strawberries that in gardens grow Are plump and juicy fine, But sweeter far as wise men know Spring from the woodland vine. No need for bowl or silver spoon,
LOOK at my knees, That island rising from the steamy… The candle’s a tall lightship; my… Are boats and barges anchored to t… With mighty cliffs all round;…
I, an ambassador of Otherwhere To the unfederated states of Here… Enjoy (as the phrase is) Extra—territorial privileges. With heres and theres I seldom co…
Why do you break upon this old, co… This painted peace of ours, With harsh dress hissing like a fl… With garish flowers? Why do you churn smooth waters rou…
Kill if you must, but never hate: Man is but grass and hate is bligh… The sun will scorch you soon or la… Die wholesome then, since you must… Hate is a fear, and fear is rot
Near Martinpuich that night of he… Two men were struck by the same sh… Together tumbling in one heap Senseless and limp like slaughtere… One was a pale eighteen—year—old,
Pale at first and cold, Like wizard’s lily—bloom Conjured from the gloom, Like torch of glow—worm seen Through grasses shining green
Caria and Philistia considered Only pre—marital adventures wise; The bourgeois French argue contra… Socrate and Plato burked the issu… (Namely, how man—and—woman love sh…
…but I was dead, an hour or more. I woke when I’d already passed th… That Cerberus guards, and half—wa… To Lethe, as an old Greek signpos… Above me, on my stretcher swinging…
‘Edward back from the Indian Sea, What have you brought for Nancy?’ ‘A rope of pearls and a gold earri… And a bird of the East that will… A carven tooth, a box with a key—’
To bring the dead to life Is no great magic. Few are wholly dead: Blow on a dead man’s embers And a live flame will start.