The Book of Poetry: Collected from the Whole Field of British and American Poetry. Also Translations of Important Poems from Foreign Languages, Volumen2

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Edwin Markham
W.H. Wise & Company, 1926 - 3243 páginas
 

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Página 302 - Let me live in a house by the side of the road And be a friend to man.
Página 311 - Like tides on a crescent sea-beach, When the moon is new and thin, Into our hearts high yearnings Come welling and surging in; Come from the mystic ocean, Whose rim no foot has trod: Some of us call it Longing, And others call it God.
Página 487 - Oh, just another kind of out-door game, One on a side. It comes to little more: There where it is we do not need the wall: He is all pine and I am apple orchard. My apple trees will never get across And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him. He only says, "Good fences make good neighbours.
Página 288 - Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone; For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own.
Página 310 - A fire-mist and a planet — A crystal and a cell A jelly-fish and a saurian, And caves where the cave-men dwell; Then a sense of law and beauty And a face turned from the clod — Some call it Evolution, And others call it God.
Página 301 - I would not sit in the scorner's seat. Or hurl the cynic's ban — Let me live in a house by the side of the road...
Página 378 - Rambled over the fields where sang the larks, And by Spoon River gathering many a shell, And many a flower and medicinal weed— Shouting to the wooded hills, singing to the green valleys. At ninety-six I had lived enough, that is all, And passed to a sweet repose.
Página 289 - SO many laws, so many creeds, So many ways that wind and wind; While just the art of being kind Is all the sad world needs.
Página 358 - There's a schooner in the offing, With her topsails shot with fire, And my heart has gone aboard her For the Islands of Desire.
Página 329 - I hear in my heart, I hear in its ominous pulses All day, on the road, the hoofs of invisible horses, All night, from their. stalls, the importunate pawing and neighing. Let cowards and laggards fall back! but alert to the saddle Weatherworn and abreast, go men of our galloping legion, With a stirrup-cup each to the lily of women that loves him. The trail is through dolor and dread, over crags and morasses; There are shapes by the way, there are things that appal...

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