WHY! who makes much of a miracle?As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles,Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,Or wade with naked feet along the beach, …
I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.Whatever I see I swallow immediatelyJust as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.I am not cruel, only truthful ‚The eye of a little god, four-cornered.Most of the time I m…
Ode To A Nightingale by John Keats My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness painsMy sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,Or emptied some dull opiate to the drainsOne minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:‘Tis not thro…
On Anothers Sorrow by William Blake Can I see anothers woe,And not be in sorrow too?Can I see anothers grief,And not seek for kind relief. Can I see a falling tear.And not feel my sorrows share,Can a father see his ch…
It keeps eternal whisperings aroundDesolate shores, and with its mighty swellGluts twice ten thousand Caverns, till the spellOf Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound.Often ’tis in such gentle temper found,That sc…
When I was home deSunshine seemed like gold.When I was home deSunshine seemed like gold.Since I come up North deWhole damn world’s turned cold. I was a good boy,Never done no wrong.Yes, I was a good boy,Never done no …