and as the last burning day of another August faded out, he sat smoking cigars...– M.E. Braddon
‘True,’ say the children, ‘it may happen That we die before...– Elizabeth Barrett Browning, “The Cry of the Children”
But why do I talk of Death? That phantom of grisly bone; I hardly fear his...– Thomas Hood, “Song of the Shirt”
A Musical Instrument
What was he doing, the great god Pan, Down in the reeds by the river? Spreading ruin and scattering ban, Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat, And breaking the golden lilies afloat With the dragon-fly on the river. He tore out a reed, the great god Pan, From the deep cool bed of the river: The limpid water turbidly ran, And the broken lilies a-dying lay, And the dragon-fly had fled away,...
Johnny Too Bad | Taj Mahal
university of houston, y u no have enough parking?
The Buried Life
-Mathew Arnold Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet, Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet! I feel a nameless sadness o’er me roll. Yes, yes, we know that we can jest, We know, we know that we can smile! But there’s a something in this breast, To which thy light words bring no rest, And thy gay smiles no anodyne. Give me thy hand, and hush awhile, And turn those limpid eyes...