A Life: Collected Poems |
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Стр. 41
All else , even in times of peace which are but a preparation for times of war - must be subordinated to this reality . War is not an instrument of policy : policy is an instrument of war . LUDENDORFF The voice of one crying in the ...
All else , even in times of peace which are but a preparation for times of war - must be subordinated to this reality . War is not an instrument of policy : policy is an instrument of war . LUDENDORFF The voice of one crying in the ...
Стр. 50
No satisfaction had Or possible to be had , But this mad mind , this mind unsatisfied That still would have The fresh rose to fold with flame And clothe the self with shame : Not peace , no peace but death itself Can stay the self From ...
No satisfaction had Or possible to be had , But this mad mind , this mind unsatisfied That still would have The fresh rose to fold with flame And clothe the self with shame : Not peace , no peace but death itself Can stay the self From ...
Стр. 69
... The raw flesh inflamed now at peace As if cool water had flushed the hidden channels , Water , water , dripping from the rocks Sweeping through the clean passages To leave sharp and pure the crystal sediment of sand .
... The raw flesh inflamed now at peace As if cool water had flushed the hidden channels , Water , water , dripping from the rocks Sweeping through the clean passages To leave sharp and pure the crystal sediment of sand .
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Содержание
Preface | 1 |
The Shadows on the Glass | 7 |
Idea | 10 |
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afternoon autumn beauty bells Beneath birds blue body break child church clear clouds comes corner dark dead death door dream eyes face fall familiar fear fields fingers flowers follow garden gate gathered girl golden gone green grey hand happiness head hear heart hedge hill hold hope hour human knew land lane late leaves light lived look lost memory mind moon morning moving never night once pain pass peace Perhaps Poems quiet remember ringing rise river road round runs scent secret sense shadow silence singing sleep sound spring stand stirs stone strange street suddenly summer Sunday things thought trees turn valley voices waiting walk walls watch wind window winter woods young