large/10730/children_of_the_night_1604_librivox_64kb_mp3/childrenofthenight_46_robinson_64kb_1
large/10730/children_of_the_night_1604_librivox_64kb_mp3/childrenofthenight_46_robinson_64kb
English
10730
Verlaine Why do you dig like long clawed scavengers To touch the covered corpse of him that fled The uplands for the fens, and rioted Like a sick satyr with doom's worshippers? Come! let the grass grow there; and leave his verse To tell the story of the life he led. VERLAINE WHAT DO YOU DIG LIKE LONG CLAWED SCABBAGES TO TOUCH THE COVERED CORPSE OF HIM THAT FLED THE UPLANDS FOR THE FENS AND RIOTED LIKE A SICK SATYR WITH DOOMED'S WORSHIPPERS COME LET THE GRASS GROW THERE AND LEAVE HIS VERSE TO TELL THE STORY OF THE LIFE HE LED
il only knows what I have done, But here I am, and here are six or eight Good friends, who most ingenuously prate About my songs to such and such a one. But everything is all askew to-night, -- As if the time were come, or almost come, For their untenanted mirage of me To lose itself and crumble out of sight, Like a tall ship that floats above the foam A little while, and then breaks utterly. Sonnet The master and the slave go hand in hand, Though touch be lost. The poet is a slave, And there be kings do sorrowfully crave The joyance that a scullion may command. But, ah, the sonnet-slave must understand The mission of his bondage, or the grave May clasp his bones, or ever he shall save The perfect word that is the poet's wand! The sonnet is a crown, whereof the rhymes Are for Thought's purest gold the jewel-stones; But shapes and echoes that are never done Will haunt the workshop, as regret sometimes Will bring with human yearning to sad thrones The crash of battles that are never won.  VERLAINE BY EDWIN ALLINGTON ROBINSON BRED FOR LIVERPOXCOTT ORG BY JAMES OPINE
large/10730/children_of_the_night_1604_librivox_64kb_mp3/childrenofthenight_46_robinson_64kb
file
download/librilight/large/10730/children_of_the_night_1604_librivox_64kb_mp3/childrenofthenight_46_robinson_64kb.flac