I hardly remember your voice, but the pain of you
floats in some remote current of my blood.
I carry you in my depths, trapped in the sludge
like one of those corpses the sea refuses to give up.
When I dieI don't care what happens to my body
HENCE, all you vain delights, As short as are the nights
Hence, all you vain delights,As short as are the nights
To be a poet is to be louder , bigger
Than men! Biting as who kisses!
It is like being a beggar and to give whoever be
King of the Kingdom of Behind and Beyond Pain!
With life's tomorrow time you grasp,
Its yesterdays you fling away,
And still, in spite of all remains
Its long eternity, today.
What is love ? A lifetime spent
Of days that pain does fill,
That thousand tears can't content,
But asks for tears still.
Mighty emperor is the forest,
High dominion does he wield,
And a thousand races prosper
'Neath the shelter of his shield.
With the curtains drawn together,
At my table of rough wood,
And the firelight flickering softly,
Do I fall to thoughtful mood.
Two candles, tall sentry, beside an earth mound,
A dream with wings broken that trail to the ground,
Loud flung from the belfry calamitous chime...
'Tis thus that you passed o'er the bound'ries of time.
There was, as in the fairy tales,
As ne'er in the time's raid,
There was, of famous royal blood
A most beautiful maid.
Though loath to grieve
The evil time's sole patriot,
I cannot leave
My honied thought
For the priest's cant,
Or statesman's rant.
Can life be a blessing,Or worth the possessing,
One Sister have I in our house,
And one, a hedge away.
There's only one recorded,
But both belong to me.
Always, we searched in the stone river,while the slaughterhouse was waiting for us,
Here begins the song according to the order of the
letters of the alphabet
A grievous stream, that to and fro
Athrough the fields of Acadie
Goes wandering, as if to know
Why one beloved face should be
So long from home and Acadie.
THE SUN he is sunk in the west,
All creatures retir?d to rest,
While here I sit, all sore beset,
With sorrow, grief, and woe:
And it’s O, fickle Fortune, O!
OH, open the door, some pity to shew,
Oh, open the door to me, oh,
Tho’ thou hast been false, I’ll ever prove true,
Oh, open the door to me, oh.
O POORTITH cauld, and restless love,
Ye wrack my peace between ye;
Yet poortith a’ I could forgive,
An ’twere na for my Jeanie.
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