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Listen, my children, and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five; Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and year. He said to his friend, "If the British march By land or...
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for Jonathan
Stone not yet placed, but weeds
fill in. New home, extra room.
Crib, unused, still up and dressed.
Earlier, the breeze unseasonably
cool. Now, melted sun-pelts splash
across shoulders, drizzle down...
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Visualize my children and you shall look
Upon the voyage of Captain James R. Cook;
It was the eighteenth of January in Seventeen Seventy-Eight;
Hardly a Hawaiian can forget the Date;
What befell upon the Islands was a terrible Fate.
...
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Then a priestess said, "Speak to us of Prayer."
And he answered, saying:
You pray in your distress and in your need; would that you might pray also in the fullness of your joy and in your days of...
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As a pendulum swings from here to there
I feel myself shift from hot to cold
As a pendulum swings from near to far
I feel myself draw closer to withdrawn
Though a pendulum is easy on the eyes
I am difficult on heart and mind
A fool who...
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Child of the pure unclouded brow
And dreaming eyes of wonder!
Though time be fleet, and I and thou
Are half a life asunder,
Thy loving smile will surely hail
The love-gift of a fairy-tale.
I have not seen thy sunny face, ...
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"Enter the Night"
/media/audio/bloom-LA_NOCHE.mp3|true(Audio)|280|90
Spanish version written by M. Bloom.
Escucho,
por un sonido,
en medio de la resonante multitud.
Escucho,
por el creciente rugido de la...
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Yes, we cry, the distant sanderling moons
Loneliness longing our wholeness of heart
Eyes mirroring the mystery of wounds
Sacredly merging truth's beauty with art.
Love it is, in all degrees we explore
Furiously hungry to know, we...
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I marvel not Bassanio was so bold
To peril all he had upon the lead,
Or that proud Aragon bent low his head,
Or that Morocco's fiery heart grew cold:
For in that gorgeous dress of beaten gold
Which is more golden than the golden sun,...
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Isolation endlessly lingers, troubled days too many too care, forget the present, that's the idea, live tomorow like it's not there. Honest opinions, rarely spoken, rage in the horizions of the mind, longing ideas to be uttered, supressed, as in the...
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Now, God be thanked Who has watched us with His hour,
And caught our youth, and wakened us from sleeping,
With hand made sure, clear eye, and sharpened power,
To turn, as swimmers into cleanness leaping,
Glad from a world grown...
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Proud Maisie is in the wood
Walking so early;
Sweet Robin sits on the bush,
Singing so rarely.
“Tell me, thou bonny bird,
When shall I marry me?” —
“When six braw...
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(Song of the Soldiers)
What of the faith and fire within us
Men who march away
Ere the barn-cocks say
Night is growing gray,
To hazards whence no tears can win us;
What of the faith and fire within us
Men who march away?
Is...
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Preludes
The winter's evening settles down
With smells of steaks in passageways.
Six o'clock.
The burnt-out ends of smoky days.
And now a gusty shower wraps
The grimy scraps
Of withered leaves across your feet ...
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I gave my knowing, poet
to you who, by notable nobility in beauty,
and with the certain character of steady silence
have irrevocably shaped my life
From the first blushing of the pen
on paper's virginal garb
your fluid therapy...
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God, God, be lenient her first night there. The crib she slept in was so near my bed; Her blue-and-white wool blanket was so soft, Her pillow hollowed so to fit her head. Teach me that she'll not want small rooms or me When she has You and...
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England, in this great fight to which you go Because, where Honour calls you, go you must, Be glad, whatever comes, at least to know You have your quarrel just. Peace was your care; before the nations' bar Her cause you pleaded and her ends you...
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As star that shines dependent upon star
Is to the sky while we look up and love;
As to the deep fair ships which though they move
Seem fixed, to eyes that watch them from afar;
As to the sandy desert fountains are,
With palm-groves...
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"Beautiful young people are accidents of nature, but beautiful old people
are works of art." ~ Eleanor Roosevelt
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