American Poets: An Anthology of Contemporary Verse

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Kurt Wolff Verlag, 1923 - 132 pagini
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Pagina 107 - WHENEVER Richard Cory went down town, We people on the pavement looked at him : He was a gentleman from sole to crown, Clean favored, and imperially slim. , And he was always quietly arrayed, And he was always human when he talked; But still he fluttered pulses when he said, "Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked. And he was rich — yes, richer than a king — And admirably schooled in every grace: In fine, we thought that he was everything To make us wish that we were in his place. So...
Pagina 77 - The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, Because he anointed me to preach good tidings to the poor: He hath sent me to proclaim release to the captives, And recovering of sight to the blind. To set at liberty them that are bruised, To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.
Pagina 33 - I died for Beauty — but was scarce Adjusted in the Tomb When One who died for Truth, was lain In an adjoining Room — He questioned softly "Why I failed"?
Pagina 51 - THE ROAD NOT TAKEN Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth...
Pagina 52 - I'm going out to clean the pasture spring; I'll only stop to rake the leaves away (And wait to watch the water clear, I may): I shan't be gone long.— You come too.
Pagina 54 - I must get out of here. I must get air. I don't know rightly whether any man can.' 'Amy! Don't go to someone else this time. Listen to me. I won't come down the stairs.
Pagina 94 - ... their bones have not lasted: men lower nets, unconscious of the fact that they are desecrating a grave, and row quickly away - the blades of the oars moving together like the feet of water-spiders as if there were no such thing as death.
Pagina 66 - With bodies like bronze, and terrible eyes Came the rank and the file, with catamount cries, Gibbering, yipping, with hollow-skull clacks, Riding white bronchos with skeleton backs, Scalp-hunters, beaded and spangled and bad, Naked and lustful and foaming and mad, Flashing primeval demoniac scorn, Blood-thirst and pomp amid darkness reborn, Power and glory that sleep in the grass While the winds and the snows and the great rains pass. They crossed the gray river, thousands abreast, They rode in infinite...
Pagina 15 - The robin chirps in the chinaberry tree Repeating three clear tones. It is morning. I stand by the mirror And tie my tie once more. While waves far off in a pale rose twilight Crash on a white sand shore.
Pagina 56 - I can repeat the very words you were saying. 'Three foggy mornings and one rainy day Will rot the best birch fence a man can build.

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