The Book of Poetry: Collected from the Whole Field of British and American Poetry. Also Translations of Important Poems from Foreign Languages, 3 tomas

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

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668 psl. - The fens and the sedges. The pledge is still the same — for all disastrous pledges, All hopes resigned! My soul still flies above me for the quarry it shall find...
561 psl. - Every slum had sent its half-a-score The round world over. (Booth had groaned for more.) Every banner that the wide world flies Bloomed with glory and transcendent dyes.
681 psl. - O wind, rend open the heat, cut apart the heat, rend it to tatters. Fruit cannot drop through this thick air — fruit cannot fall into heat that presses up and blunts the points of pears and rounds the grapes.
749 psl. - Euclid alone has looked on Beauty bare. Let all who prate of Beauty hold their peace, And lay them prone upon the earth and cease To ponder on themselves, the while they stare At nothing, intricately drawn nowhere In shapes of shifting lineage; let geese Gabble and hiss, but heroes seek release From dusty bondage into luminous air.
648 psl. - Ha' we lost the goodliest fere o' all For the priests and the gallows tree? Aye lover he was of brawny men, O' ships and the open sea. When they came wi' a host to take Our Man His smile was good to see. "First let these go !" quo' our goodly Fere, "Or I'll see ye damned,
669 psl. - My wild soul waited on as falcons hover. I beat the reedy fens as I trampled past. I heard the mournful loon In the marsh beneath the moon. And then, with feathery thunder, the bird of my desire Broke from the cover Flashing silver fire. High up among the stars I saw his pinions spire. The pale clouds gazed aghast As my falcon stooped upon him, and gript and held him fast.
704 psl. - twere better to be deep Pillowed in silk and scented down, Where Love throbs out in blissful sleep, Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath, Where hushed awakenings are dear . . . But I've a rendezvous with Death...
600 psl. - Thou hast committed — Fornication: but that was in another country, And besides, the wench is dead.
562 psl. - Master thro' the flag-filled air. Christ came gently with a robe and crown For Booth the soldier, while the throng knelt down. He saw King Jesus. They were face to face, And he knelt a-weeping in that holy place.
563 psl. - Fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room, Barrel-house kings, with feet unstable, Sagged and reeled and pounded on the table, Pounded on the table, Beat an empty barrel with the handle of a broom, Hard as they were able, Boom, boom, BOOM, With a silk umbrella and the handle of a broom, Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOM.

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