All night they marched, the infantrymen under pack,
But the hands gripping the rifles were naked bone
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I rained quite a lot, that spring. You woke in the morning
And saw the sky still clouded, the streets still wet,
99 lines, 1 comment
We had expected everything but revolt
And I kind of wonder myself when they started thinking--
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"FROM Belton Castle to Solway side,
Hard by the bridge, is three days' ride."
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My mind’s a map. A mad sea-captain drew it
Under a flowing moon until he knew it;
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Ah, did you once see Shelley plain?" -- Browning.
"Shelley? Oh, yes, I saw him often then
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I flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying.
I said, “Wait on, wait on, while I ride below!
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Eternally the choking steam goes up
From the black pools of seething oil. . . .
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(A Pharaoh Speaks.)
I said, "Why should a pyramid
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The last pose flickered, failed. The screen's dead white
Glared in a sudden flooding of harsh light
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I shall go away
To the brown hills, the quiet ones,
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Soup should be heralded with a mellow horn,
Blowing clear notes of gold against the stars;
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Black trees against an orange sky,
Trees that the wind shook terribly,
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Gods, what a black, fierce day! The clouds were iron,
Wrenched to strange, rugged shapes; the red sun winked
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There is darkness behind the light -- and the pale light drips
Cold on vague shapes and figures, that, half-seen loom
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He lay within a warm, soft world
Of motion. Colors bloomed and fled,
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He woke up with a sick taste in his mouth
And lay there heavily, while dancing motes
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The grey gulls drift across the bay
Softly and still as flakes of snow
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The moon, a sweeping scimitar, dipped in the stormy straits,
The dawn, a crimson cataract, burst through the eastern gates,
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Next, then, the peacock, gilt
With all its feathers. Look, what gorgeous dyes
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After the whipping he crawled into bed,
Accepting the harsh fact with no great weeping.
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Well, I was tired of life; the silly folk,
The tiresome noises, all the common things
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(For G. H.)
Say, does that stupid earth
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It was not when temptation came,
Swiftly and blastingly as flame,
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(For D. M. C.)
The little man with the vague beard and guise
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My friend went to the piano; spun the stool
A little higher; left his pipe to cool;
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Here, where men's eyes were empty and as bright
As the blank windows set in glaring brick,
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Perhaps we go with wind and cloud and sun,
Into the free companionship of air;
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"The College will reopen Sept. —."
`Catalogue'.
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There were not many at that lonely place,
Where two scourged hills met in a little plain.
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