Tag Archives: dead

The Margin Of Difference by Les Murray

One and one make two, the literalist said. So far they’ve made five billion, said the lateralist, or ten times that, if you count the dead. Les Murray Advertisements

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Winter by Adrienne Rich

Dead, dead, dead, dead. A beast of the Middle Ages stupefied in its den. The hairs on its body—a woman’s— cold as hairs on a bulb or tuber. Nothing so bleakly leaden, you tell me, as a hyacinth’s dull cone … Continue reading

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The Phoenix and the Turtle by William Shakespeare

Let the bird of loudest lay On the sole Arabian tree Herald sad and trumpet be, To whose sound chaste wings obey. But thou shrieking harbinger, Foul precurrer of the fiend, Augur of the fever’s end, To this troop come … Continue reading

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the Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls by e e cummings

the Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls are unbeautiful and have comfortable minds (also, with the church’s protestant blessings daughters, unscented shapeless spirited) they believe in Christ and Longfellow, both dead, are invariably interested in so many things— at … Continue reading

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Not Waving but Drowning by Stevie Smith

Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning: I was much further out than you thought And not waving but drowning. Poor chap, he always loved larking And now he’s dead It must have been too cold … Continue reading

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Ode to the West Wind by Percy Bysshe Shelley

I O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being,Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves deadAre driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou,Who chariotest to their dark wintry … Continue reading

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Poets by Janet Frame

If poets die young they bequeath two thirds of their life to the critics to graze and grow fat in visionary grass. If poets die in old age they live their own lives they write their own poems they are … Continue reading

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