#AmericanWriters
Listen, my children, and you shall… The midnight activities of Whats-… Scarcely a general now known to fa… Can tell you of that famous day an… When feeble Mr. Asquith, getting…
Love thou thy dream All base love scorning, Love thou the wind And here take warning That dreams alone can truly be,
This thing, that hath a code and n… Hath set acquaintance where might… And nothing now Disturbeth his reflections.
O woe, woe, People are born and die, We also shall be dead pretty soon Therefore let us act as if we were dead already.
The full sea rolls and thunders In glory and in glee. O, bury me not in the senseless ea… But in the living sea! Ay, bury me where it surges
Zeus lies in Ceres’ bosom Taishan is attended of loves under Cythera, before sunrise And he said: “Hay aquí mucho cato… catolithismo
Thick is the darkness - Sunward, O, sunward! Rough is the highway - Onward, still onward! Dawn harbours surely
The eyes of this dead lady speak t… For here was love, was not to be d… And here desire, not to be kissed… The eyes of this dead lady speak t…
The good Bellaires Do not understand the conduct of t… In fact they understood them so ba… That they have had to cross the C… Nine lawyers, four counsels, five…
We are the Choice of the Will: G… That called us into line, set in o… Set us a sword to wield none else… And bade us forth to the sound of… East and west and north, wherever…
Phyllidula is scrawny but amorous, Thus have the gods awarded her, That in pleasure she receives more… If she does not count this blessed Let her change her religion.
Kung walked by the dynastic temple and into the cedar grove, and then out by the lower river, And with him Khieu Tchi
Phyllidula and the Spoils of Gouv… Where, Lady, are the days When you could go out in a hired h… Without footmen and equipments? And dine in a soggy, cheap restaur…
This boat is of shato-wood, and it… magnolia, Musicians with jewelled flutes and… Fill full the sides in rows, and o… Is rich for a thousand cups.
What have I done for you, England, my England? What is there I would not do, England, my own? With your glorious eyes austere,