September 2011
“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”
August 2011
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...
