With Donne, whose muse on dromedary trots,
Wreathe iron pokers into true-love knots;
Rhyme's sturdy cripple, fancy's maze and clue,
Wit's forge and fire-blast, meaning's press and screw.
Popular Posts
-
CHAPTER XXXIV In civilian clothes I felt a masquerader. I had been in uniform a long time and I missed the feeling of being held by ...
-
To spring poem is addressed to the spring season. The poet calls upon the season to visit his land. He fervently appeals to the season t... -
Title: A Modest Proposal For preventing the children of poor people in Ireland, from being a burden on their parents or cou... -
This is the last of all, this is the last! I must hold my hands, and turn my face to the fire, I must watch my dead days fusing toge...
-
Chapter 9. They Carry Mitya Away WHEN the protocol had been signed, Nikolay Parfenovitch turned solemnly to the prisoner and read hi...
-
CHAPTER XIV. In describing a distant view of Imabari I made mention of a sea-god's shrine jutting out into the sea: the festival...
-
Monseigneur, one of the great lords in power at the Court, held his fortnightly reception in his grand hotel in Paris. Monseigneur was in ...
-
CHAPTER X In the ward at the field hospital they told me a visitor was coming to see me in the afternoon. It was a hot day and there...
-
The poem is addressed to Wordsworth's younger sister, Dorothy Wordsworth. He urged her to come out into the open lap of nature. She ... -
CHAPTER III When I came back to the front we still lived in that town. There were many more guns in the country around and the sprin...
