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'If my head hurt a hair's foot'

© Dylan Thomas

'If my head hurt a hair's foot
Pack back the downed bone. If the unpricked ball of my breath
Bump on a spout let the bubbles jump out.
Sooner drop with the worm of the ropes round my throat
Than bully ill love in the clouted scene.

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Above The Vales

© Madison Julius Cawein

We went by ways of bygone days,
  Up mountain heights of story,
  Where lost in vague, historic haze,
  Tradition, crowned with battle-bays,
  Sat 'mid her ruins hoary.

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Widderin’s Race. Australian.

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

"A HORSE amongst ten thousand! on the verge,
The extremest verge of equine life he stands;
Yet mark his action, as those wild young colts
Freed from the stock-yard gallop whinnying up;
See how he trots towards them,--nose in air,
Tail arched, and his still sinewy legs out-thrown

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George Chapman:XI

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

HIGH priest of Homer, not elect in vain,

  Deep trumpets blow before thee, shawms behind

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Peace

© Swami Vivekananda

Behold, it comes in might,
The power that is not power,
The light that is in darkness,
The shade in dazzling light.

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Sing Heigh-Ho!

© Charles Kingsley

There sits a bird on every tree;
Sing heigh-ho!
There sits a bird on every tree,
And courts his love as I do thee;
Sing heigh-ho, and heigh-ho!
Young maids must marry.

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Catharina : The Second Part. On Her Marriage To George Courtenay, Esq.

© William Cowper

Believe it or not, as you choose,
The doctrine is certainly true,
That the future is known to the Muse,
And poets are oracles too.

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My Lady Nature and her Daughters

© John Henry Newman

Bird and beast of every sort
Hath its antic and its sport;
Chattering brook, and dancing gnat,
Subtle cry of evening bat,
Moss uncouth, and twigs grotesque,
These are Nature's picturesque.

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Ode to Joy

© Anonymous

Would he purge his soul from vileness
And attain to light and worth,
He must turn and cling forever
To his ancient Mother Earth.

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To A Certain Critic

© George MacDonald

Such guests as you, sir, were not in my mind

When I my homely dish with care designed;

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"How hard for me, the splendor of this crown and robe"

© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam


-- O, if hate would boil in my breast --
but see, the admission itself
has fallen from my lips.

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Nathan The Wise - Act II

© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing

  But out of my dilemma
'Tis not so easy to escape unhurt.
Well, you must have the knight.

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Sure Hit Songwriter’s Pen

© Sheldon Allan Silverstein

Now I was hangin' round Nashville writin' songs and playin' 'em for all of the stars
Watchin' 'em laugh and hand 'em back livin' on hope and Hershey bars
So I pawned my guitar and bought a ticket home and I's headin' for the Trailway bus
When I seen an old fountain pen laying in the gutter so I stopped and picked it up

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Joan Of Arc, In Rheims

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Thou hast a charmed cup, O Fame!
  A draught that mantles high,
And seems to lift this earth-born frame
  Above mortality:
Away! to me a woman bring
Sweet waters from affection's spring.

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Male Phoenix Pleads With Female Phoenix

© Ssu-mu Hsiang-ju

Lady phoenix, lady phoenix: come with me and nest,
be supported, breed with me, forever be my wife,
exchange love in the usual way, our hearts harmonious:
at midnight if you follow me who will know?
Our wings together will rise, fluttering as high we fly.
If your are unmoved by my feelings, I will be miserable.

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Evening

© Archibald Lampman

  From upland slopes I see the cows file by,
  Lowing, great-chested, down the homeward trail,
  By dusking fields and meadows shining pale
  With moon-tipped dandelions. Flickering high,

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Invitation To Eternity

© John Clare

Say, wilt thou go with me, sweet maid,

Say, maiden, wilt thou go with me

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The Friendly Greeting

© Edgar Albert Guest

Oh, we have friends in England, and we have friends in France,
And should we have to travel there through some strange circumstance,
Undaunted we should sail away, and gladly should we go,
Because awaiting us would be somebody that we know.

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Idyll XVII. The Praise of Ptolemy

© Theocritus

  "Wake, babe, to bliss: prize me, as Phoebus doth
  His azure-sphered Delos: grace the hill
  Of Triops, and the Dorians' sister shores,
  As king Apollo his Rhenaea's isle."

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Seventh Sunday After Trinity

© John Keble

Go not away, thou weary soul:
  Heaven has in store a precious dole
Here on Bethsaida's cold and darksome height,
  Where over rocks and sands arise
  Proud Sirion in the northern skies,
And Tabor's lonely peak, 'twixt thee and noonday light.