To sing jubilas at exact, accustom… To be crested and wear the mane of… And so, as part, to exult with its… To speak of joy and to sing of it,… The shoulders of joyous men, to fe…

Napoleon shifted Restless in the old sarcophagus And murmured to a watchguard: “Who goes there?” “Twenty-one million men,

It was the morn And the palms were waved And the brass was played Then the coroner came In his limpid shoes.

The trade-wind jingles the rings i… by the docks on Indian River. It is the same jingle of the water… banks of the palmettoes. It is the same jingle of the red-b…

It is grass. It is monotonous. The monotony Is like your port which conceals All your characters

Chieftain Iffucan of Azcan in caf… Of tan with henna hackles, halt! Damned universal cock, as if the s… Was blackamoor to bear your blazin… Fat! Fat! Fat! Fat! I am the per…

There’s a little square in Paris, Waiting until we pass. They sit idly there, They sip the glass. There’s a cab-horse at the corner,

Life contracts and death is expect… As in season of autumn. The soldier falls. He does not become a three-days pe… Imposing his separation,

Granted, we die for good. Life, then, is largely a thing Of happens to like, not should. And that, too, granted, why Do I happen to like red bush,

Just as my fingers on these keys Make music, so the self-same sound… On my spirit make a music, too. Music is feeling, then, not sound; And thus it is that what I feel,