#English #XXCentury
With a fork drive Nature out, She will ever yet return; Hedge the flowerbed all about, Pull or stab or cut or burn, She will ever yet return.
He fell in victory’s fierce pursui… Holed through and through with sho… A sabre sweep had hacked him deep Twixt neck and shoulderknot.... The potman cannot well recall,
The bards falter in shame, their r… Stumbles, with marrow—bones the dr… Pelt them for their delay. It is a something fearful in the s… Plagues them —an unknown grief tha…
Not to sleep all the night long, f… Counting no sheep and careless of… Welcoming the dawn confabulation Of birds, her children, who discus… Fanciful details of the promised c…
The great sun sinks behind the tow… Through a red mist of Volnay wine… But what’s the use of setting down That glorious blaze behind the tow… You’ll only skip the page, you’ll…
A page, a huntsman and a priest of… Her lovers, met in jealous contrar… Equally claiming the sole parentho… Of him the perfect crown of their… Then, whom to admit, herself she c…
“Are you awake, Gemelli, This frosty night?” 'We’ll be awake till reveillé, Which is Sunrise,' say the Gemell… “It’s no good trying to go to slee…
If strange things happen where she… So that men say that graves open And the dead walk, or that futurit… Becomes a womb and the unborn are… Such portents are not to be wonder…
To the woods, to the woods is the… In his grotto the maiden sits alon… She gazes up with a weary smile At the rafter—hanging crocodile, The slowly swinging crocodile.
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,
Double red daisies, they’re my flo… Which nobody else may grow. In a big quarrelsome house like ou… They try it sometimes—but no, I root them up because they’re my…
Across the room my silent love I… Where you sit sewing in bed by can… Your young stern profile and indus… Displayed against the blind in a s… To Dinda’s grave delight.
On her shut lids the lightning fli… Thunder explodes above her bed, An inch from her lax arm the rain… Discrete she lies, Not dead but entranced, dreamlessl…
We may well wonder at those bearde… Who like the scorpion and the basi… Couched in the desert sands, to un… Their scrufy flesh with tortures. They drank from pools fouled by th…