A delivery of dung - by
No piece of art is perfect. / All it has to do is stay around / for two hundred, or…
Romantics
Keep your receipts, Mister Keats - by
John Keats, you suggested that a poem should come
/ out complete,
/ as certain and as surely as a leaf upon a tree,
/ but…
Lochnagar - by
Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses,
/ In you let the minions of luxury rove,
/ Restore me the rocks where the…
I wandered lonely as a Cloud… - by
I wandered lonely as a Cloud
/ That floats on high o’er Vales and Hills,
/ When all at once I saw a crowd
/ A…
She Walks in Beauty - by
She walks in beauty, like the night
/ Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
/ And all that’s best of dark…
So, We’ll Go No More A-roving - by
I
/ So, we’ll go no more a-roving
/ So late into the night,
/ Though the heart be still as loving,
/ …
Ode on a Grecian Urn - by
Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness,
/ Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time,
/ Sylvan historian, who canst thus express…
On First Looking Into Chapman’s Homer - by
Much have I travell’d in the realms of gold,
/ And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
/ …
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner - by
an extract
/
/ Part III
/
/ There passed a weary time. Each throat
/ Was parched, and glazed each eye.
/ A weary time! a weary…