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The curious defiled past him, after squeezing the Presidential fingers into the room, and settled either on the sofa or chairs or remained standing for protracted observations.

quote by Henry Villard
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Handles Bermuda

bean bag spokane
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ben sherman messenger bags
bejui bags
beijo bags

[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Luggage Canada

b ean bag stoer
bed liner motorcycle bags
bern aby bag
bed in a bag ty pennington
beetle bags roadstar midnight star
bean bag chairs burbank
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bed in a bag pink paisley
belt bag tool belt
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bennington golf travel bag
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bean bag stuffing material
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beijo business bags pastel blue
belkin messenger bag
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beth any bag
bean bag chair indigo denim print
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betty boop harley bag
bichon frise gift bags
ben hogan golf mystique stand bag
bicyce crossbar bag
bean bag shells shotgun

[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Sitting On My Sofa

All alone, sitting on my sofa,
Oh, oh, oh, sitting on my sofa,
Sipping at my soda,
Sitting on my sofa.
All alone, sitting on my sofa,
Oh, oh, oh, sitting on my sofa,
Sipping at my soda,
Sitting on my sofa.
You got all your friends,
I got a tv set.
You got your cars,
And this boys never had anything.
Now Im stuck here, sitting on my sofa,
Oh, oh, oh, sitting on my sofa,
Sipping at my soda,
Sitting on my sofa.
You got all your friends,
I got a tv set.
You got your cars,
And this boys never had anything.
Now Im stuck here, sitting on my sofa,
All alone, sitting on my sofa,
Sipping at my soda,
Sitting on my sofa.
Oh, oh, oh, sitting on my sofa,
Oh...

song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sittin On My Sofa

All alone, sitting on my sofa,
Oh, oh, oh, sitting on my sofa,
Sipping at my soda,
Sitting on my sofa.
All alone, sitting on my sofa,
Oh, oh, oh, sitting on my sofa,
Sipping at my soda,
Sitting on my sofa.
You got all your friends,
I got a TV set.
You got your cars,
And this boy's never had anything.
Now I'm stuck here, sitting on my sofa,
Oh, oh, oh, sitting on my sofa,
Sipping at my soda,
Sitting on my sofa.
You got all your friends,
I got a TV set.
You got your cars,
And this boy's never had anything.
Now I'm stuck here, sitting on my sofa,
All alone, sitting on my sofa,
Sipping at my soda,
Sitting on my sofa.
Oh, oh, oh, sitting on my sofa,
Oh...

song performed by Kinks
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The Task: Book I. -- The Sofa

I sing the Sofa. I who lately sang
Truth, Hope, and Charity, and touched with awe
The solemn chords, and with a trembling hand,
Escaped with pain from that adventurous flight,
Now seek repose upon an humbler theme;
The theme though humble, yet august and proud
The occasion, - for the fair commands the song.

Time was when clothing, sumptuous or for use,
Save their own painted skins, our sires had none.
As yet black breeches were not, satin smooth,
Or velvet soft, or plush with shaggy pile.
The hardy chief upon the rugged rock
Washed by the sea, or on the gravelly bank
Thrown up by wintry torrents roaring loud,
Fearless of wrong, reposed his weary strength.
Those barbarous ages past, succeeded next
The birthday of invention, weak at first,
Dull in design, and clumsy to perform.
Joint-stools were then created; on three legs
Upborne they stood, - three legs upholding firm
A massy slab, in fashion square or round.
On such a stool immortal Alfred sat,
And swayed the sceptre of his infant realms;
And such in ancient halls and mansions drear
May still be seen, but perforated sore
And drilled in holes the solid oak is found,
By worms voracious eating through and through.

At length a generation more refined
Improved the simple plan, made three legs four,
Gave them a twisted form vermicular,
And o'er the seat with plenteous wadding stuffed
Induced a splendid cover green and blue,
Yellow and red, of tapestry richly wrought
And woven close, or needle-work sublime.
There might ye see the peony spread wide,
The full-blown rose, the shepherd and his lass,
Lap-dog and lambkin with black staring eyes,
And parrots with twin cherries in their beak.

Now came the cane from India, smooth and bright
With Nature's varnish; severed into stripes
That interlaced each other, these supplied
Of texture firm a lattice-work, that braced
The new machine, and it became a chair.
But restless was the chair; the back erect
Distressed the weary loins that felt no ease;
The slippery seat betrayed the sliding part
That pressed it, and the feet hung dangling down,

[...] Read more

poem by William Cowper
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Standing In For Joe

Im standing, standing in for joe
Joe called round to ask me, would I do a favor?
While hes gonna be out of town
He says his girl needs company, she gets so restless
Would I keep her safe and sound?
Softly, softly in the night
Why, you can guess the rest...
Now these shoes fit all too well
Standing in for joe
Standing in for joe
Im standing - in for joe
Joe said weve been friends so long
That I would be the one he would trust with his life
And now those words roll round my brain
As darkness falls, as I turn out his bedroom light
Who could resist her tender charms?
So the story goes...
This actor he plays all the parts
Standing in for joe
Standing in for joe
Im standing - in for joe
Love is like a river,
You cannot stop its flow... mmm hmm
Joe called round to ask me, would I do a favor?
While hes gonna be out of town
He says his girl needs company, she gets so restless
Would I check that shes safe and sound?
Softly, softly in the night
Why, you can guess the rest...
Now these shoes fit all too well
Standing in for joe
Im standing in for joe - oh yeah
Im standing in for joe - keep his sweetheart company, yeah
Standing in for joe - just standing in for joe, yeah
Standing in for joe - until he gets back home, yeah
Standing in for joe - gonna keep her insane, yeah
Standing in for joe - gonna keep her safe and sound, yeah
Standing in for joe - keep his sweetheart company, yeah
Standing in for joe - almost full time, which is nice, yeah
Standing in for joe - because she gets so restless
Standing in for joe - always so restless
Standing in for joe - keep his sweetheart company, yeah
Standing in for joe - gonna keep her safe and sound, yeah
Standing in for joe - Im standing in for joe, yeah...

song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Standing In For Joe

Im standing, standing in for joe
Joe called round to ask me, would I do a favor?
While hes gonna be out of town
He says his girl needs company, she gets so restless
Would I keep her safe and sound?
Softly, softly in the night
Why, you can guess the rest...
Now these shoes fit all too well
Standing in for joe
Standing in for joe
Im standing - in for joe
Joe said weve been friends so long
That I would be the one he would trust with his life
And now those words roll round my brain
As darkness falls, as I turn out his bedroom light
Who could resist her tender charms?
So the story goes...
This actor he plays all the parts
Standing in for joe
Standing in for joe
Im standing - in for joe
Love is like a river,
You cannot stop its flow... mmm hmm
Joe called round to ask me, would I do a favor?
While hes gonna be out of town
He says his girl needs company, she gets so restless
Would I check that shes safe and sound?
Softly, softly in the night
Why, you can guess the rest...
Now these shoes fit all too well
Standing in for joe
Im standing in for joe - oh yeah
Im standing in for joe - keep his sweetheart company, yeah
Standing in for joe - just standing in for joe, yeah
Standing in for joe - until he gets back home, yeah
Standing in for joe - gonna keep her insane, yeah
Standing in for joe - gonna keep her safe and sound, yeah
Standing in for joe - keep his sweetheart company, yeah
Standing in for joe - almost full time, which is nice, yeah
Standing in for joe - because she gets so restless
Standing in for joe - always so restless
Standing in for joe - keep his sweetheart company, yeah
Standing in for joe - gonna keep her safe and sound, yeah
Standing in for joe - Im standing in for joe, yeah...

song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Escape of the Old Grey Squirrel

Old Grey Squirrel might have been
Almost anything -
Might have been a soldier, sailor,
Tinker, tailor
(Never a beggar-man, though, nor thief).
Might have been, perhaps, a king,
Or an Indian chief.

He remained a City clerk
Doubled on a great high stool,
Totting up, from dawn to dark,
Figures, figures, figures, figures,
Red ink, black ink, double rule,
Tot-tot-totting with his pen,
Up and down and round again -
Curious Old Grey Squirrel.

No one ever really knew
What he did at night,
In his room so near the roof,
Up those steep and narrow stairs.
Old Grey Squirrel wasn't quite
The same as other men.
What he said was always true;
He was like a little child
In a thousand things.
Something shy and delicate,
Cold and grave and undefiled,
Seemed to keep him quite aloof.
You could never call him lonely,
Though he lived with memory there.

When he knelt beside his bed
He had nothing much to say
But the simplest little prayer
Learned in childhood, long ago,
And he didn't know or care
Whether Calvinists might call it
Praying for the dead.

Father, mother, sister, brother -
Memories clear as evening bells;
Yes, the very sort of thing
All your clever little scribblers
Love to satirize and sting,
So let's talk of something else.
He collected stamps, you know,
Commonplace Old Squirrel.

Ah, but could you see him there,

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Noyes
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The House Of Dust: Complete

I.

The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.

And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.

'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.

We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .

Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.

Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.

Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.

II.

[...] Read more

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Standing On The Edge

In the middle of the night
I had a vision
It was bigger than life
Standing on the edge of my bed
She said come here, dont be afraid
Her tongue opened like a shot
Oh bang bang
Ten feet tall, laser eyes
Killer body, killer thighs
She drew me a fine line
Whats wrong whats right
I didnt know what to think
She seemed to know what to drink
I was stunned by her gun
Couldnt walk, couldnt run
Well she drew me a picture
And it seemed so true
Standing on the edge
And watching my life flash by
Standing on the edge
Shes lookin right through my eyes
Love is passin by
Right before my eyes
And Im wondering why
Whats the reason
That Im standing on the edge
Standing on the edge
Standing on the edge
Right here in my face
I had a vision
That was bigger than life
Oh connie likes nighttime, every night
Connie likes candy, every bite
All day sucker, connie might
Swallow that thing cause she does it right
Im weak in the knees
Im beggin you please
Just ask for more
She just wants affection
My soldiers at attention
No I dont know
Why youre doin this to me
Standing on the edge
And watching my life flash by
Standing on the edge
Shes lookin right through my eyes
Love is passin by
Right before my eyes
And Im wondering why
Whats the reason

[...] Read more

song performed by Cheap Trick
Added by Lucian Velea
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Standing Alone

You don't know the place I come from.
I'll leave you standing alone!
Standing alone.

You don't know the place I come from.
I'll leave you standing alone!
Standing alone.

Don't ever try to lie to me.
I'll leave you,
Standing alone.
Standing alone.

Or hide in your eyes you deceive.
You'll be,
Standing alone.
Standing alone.

You don't know the place I come from.
I'll leave you standing alone!
Standing alone.

You don't know the place I come from.
I'll leave you standing alone!
Standing alone.

Like a game of one on one in hoop,
You'll be playing alone.
Playing alone.

Or hiding in the bushes too!
You'll be hiding alone.
To be left on your own!

You don't know the place I come from.
I'll leave you standing alone!
Standing alone.

Don't ever try to lie to me.
I'll leave you,
Standing alone.
Standing alone.

Or hide in your eyes you deceive.
You'll be,
Standing alone.
Standing alone.

Don't ever try to lie to me.
I'll leave you,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Am Curious

(carole pope / kevan staples)
Im curious, I wanna know
Im an idealist, Ill let it show
Im curious with myself
Im delirious from wanting
The noise that announces a seduction
Im a volcano
In a state of eruption
I live life with a wild intensity
Need to be aroused
To the point of intimacy
What are your motives?
I got to know
Im doing research
I got to know
What are your motives?
I got to know
Tell me your motives, oh, oh
cause Im curious, I wanna know
Im an idealist, Ill let it show
Im curious with myself
Im delirious from wanting
The fusing, the melting of two bodies
Im addicted to lethal sexuality
I live life on the edge of ecstasy
Need to be desired
Nothing else fulfils me
What are your motives?
I got to know
Im doing research
I got to know
What are your motives?
I got to know
Tell me your motives, ooh, ooh
Im curious, I wanna know
Im an idealist, Ill let it show
Im curious with myself
Im delirious from wanting
Im curious, I wanna know
Im an idealist, Ill let it show
Im curious with myself
Im delirious from wanting
Yes, Im curious, I wanna know
Im an idealist, Ill let it show
I am curious with myself
Too delirious from singing
cause Im curious, I wanna know
Im an idealist, Ill let it show
Im curious with myself
Im delirious from wanting

song performed by Dusty Springfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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Curious

Straight as a dye
On us we rely
Yet watch how my head is turning
Distracting my eye
Its no reflection on you, yet who would believe me
Troubled by the thought of it, I cant deny
That Im curious, never meant to hurt you
Just curious, I cant deny
That Im curious, never have decieved you
Just curious, I cannot lie
Give me a reason
Ill hide my delight
Shamelessly Ill seize the moment
Just my needs in sight
Its no reflection on you, yet who would believe me
Troubled by the thought of it, I cant deny
That Im curious, never meant to hurt you
Just curious, I cant deny
That Im curious, never have decieved you
Just curious, I cannot lie
Its no reflection on you, yet who would believe me
Troubled by the thought of it, I cant deny
That Im curious, never meant to hurt you
Just curious, I cant deny
That Im curious, never have decieved you
Just curious, I cannot lie

song performed by Olive
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Nail In Nicolas Sarkozy's Coffin

Will French
Socialist Party
challenger
François Hollande

attain pole position
defeat as expected
Nicolas Sarkozy
president of Republic?

We've got
a strong turnout
for today's
presidential election.

We estimate
the turnout
will stand at 82%
at least by 8pm.

Stay tuned
for live updates
throughout
the evening.

The race is on
the second
the final round
of the French

presidential election;
Nicolas Sarkozy's
dwindling hopes
of being re-elected;

to the French
presidency
were rocked
by evidence;

Colonel Gaddafi
donated New Zealand
$83 laundered million
to corrupt campaign;

that first brought
paid for puppet
Nicolas Sarkozy
to presidential power?

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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We Can Create A Modern International Community

And I wonder when Congress will allow public nationwide schools...
in the United States to set aside time for children again to pray?
To pray for, or quietly reflect on behalf of, their once great Nation!

To pray for their nation during this proclaimed danger time...
of struggle against the forces of evil dark international terrorism!
But in the White House lurks a dark soul of 100% fetus murder!

Barack against murder international terrorism with Pro-Abortion Record!
Like Pharaoh in the time of the birth of Moses, like King Harold at the birth of Jesus, killing innocent children based on state law is ok in America today!

Why? How can this be? On 9th of March 2008 Barack proclaimed “We were once were, we are no longer a Christian nation, at least not just....”
No Ten Commandments, No God’s law displayed in government buildings!

15th April 2009 Barack proclaimed “We can create a modern international community that is respectful that is secure that is prosperous....
(in an aside to himself) and like Baal Worshippers we will support propagate

State Policies funding killing innocent children against the will of the majority of Americans and I Barack will use tax payer dollars to kill innocent unborn! We will fill White House high office with Pro Abortion all! Yes We Can!

Darth Vader will create a universal New World Order!

And in the on going baby killing sweepstakes infant killer Obama selects: -

Pro-Abortion Sen. Joe Biden as Obama’s vice-presidential running mate. Pro-Abortion Rep. Rahm Emanuel as Obama’s White House Chief of Staff.
Pro-Abortion former Sen. Tom Daschle as Obama’s Health and Human Services Secretary.

Former NARAL legal director Dawn Johnsen to serve as a member of Obama’s Department of Justice Review Team. Next appointed Assistant Attorney General for the Office of the Legal Counsel.

Betta check Obama’s rap sheet Pro-Abortion Record, for the rest of his all star elite baby killing machine selections.

'President Barack Obama's Pro-Abortion Record: A Pro-Life Compilation

Washington, DC (LifeNews.com) - The following is a compilation of bill signings, speeches, appointments and other actions that President Barack Obama has engaged in that have promoted abortion before and during his presidency. While Obama has promised to reduce abortions and some of his supporters believe that will happen, this long list proves his only agenda is promoting more abortions.

During the presidential election, Obama selected pro-abortion Sen. Joe Biden as his vice-presidential running mate.

Post-Election / Pre-Inauguration
November 5,2008 - Obama selects pro-abortion Rep. Rahm Emanuel as his White House Chief of Staff. Emanuel has a 0% pro-life voting record according to National Right to Life.

November 19,2008 - Obama picks pro-abortion former Sen. Tom Daschle as his Health and Human Services Secretary. Daschle has a long pro-abortion voting record according to National Right to Life.

November 20,2008 - Obama chooses former NARAL legal director Dawn Johnsen to serve as a member of his Department of Justice Review Team. Later, he finalizes her appointment as the Assistant Attorney General for the Office of the Legal Counsel in the Obama administration.

November 24,2008 - Obama appoints Ellen Moran, the former director of the pro-abortion group Emily's List as his White House communications director. Emily's List only supports candidates who favored taxpayer funded abortions and opposed a partial-birth abortion ban.

November 24,2008 - Obama puts former Emily's List board member Melody Barnes in place as his director of the Domestic Policy Council.

November 30,2008 - Obama named pro-abortion Sen. Hillary Clinton as the Secretary of State. Clinton has an unblemished pro-abortion voting record and has supported making unlimited abortions an international right.

December 10,2008 - Obama selects pro-abortion former Clinton administration official Jeanne Lambrew to become the deputy director of the White House Office of Health Reform. Planned Parenthood is 'excited' about the selection.

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Headroom

I need headroom,
Got to have headroom,
Some place to rest my head.
I'm gettin' taller,
Thinkin's gettin' smaller,
Time is winnin' out instead.
Well, I heard it on the news,
They're selling everything they can.
And the American flag
Is manufactured in Japan.
They're fightin' battles in the stars,
They're pourin' billions into Mars.
And layin' right there at my feet,
There're people sleepin' in the street.
Give me room, room, room, room, room, room.
Well, I'm livin' on the farm,
Where chemistry has lost its charm.
And every dusty wind that blows,
Is burnin' big holes in my clothes.
They're burnin' big holes in the sky,
Makin' people wonder why
With all our land and sea and space,
Progress is wreckin' every place.
Give me room, room, room, room, room, room.
Well, if you want an assen-ell,
The government will wish you well,
And if you steal a million bucks,
The government will wish you luck.
And they might even give you more,
If you're makin' things for war.
But if you're poor and stealin' cars,
You'll spend your life behind the bars.
Give me room, room, room, room, room, room.
They're talkin' ethics on the hill,
They're talkin' union at the mill,
They're talkin' justice at the farm,
They're talkin' safety in the car.
They're talkin' murder in the states,
They're talkin' cash to get a fix.
They're talkin' virus in the bed,
I'm talkin' room to rest my head.
Give me room, room, room, room, room, room.
I need headroom,
Got to have headroom,
Some place to rest my head.

song performed by Don McLean
Added by Lucian Velea
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Canto the Fifth

I
When amatory poets sing their loves
In liquid lines mellifluously bland,
And pair their rhymes as Venus yokes her doves,
They little think what mischief is in hand;
The greater their success the worse it proves,
As Ovid's verse may give to understand;
Even Petrarch's self, if judged with due severity,
Is the Platonic pimp of all posterity.

II
I therefore do denounce all amorous writing,
Except in such a way as not to attract;
Plain -- simple -- short, and by no means inviting,
But with a moral to each error tack'd,
Form'd rather for instructing than delighting,
And with all passions in their turn attack'd;
Now, if my Pegasus should not be shod ill,
This poem will become a moral model.

III
The European with the Asian shore
Sprinkled with palaces; the ocean stream
Here and there studded with a seventy-four;
Sophia's cupola with golden gleam;
The cypress groves; Olympus high and hoar;
The twelve isles, and the more than I could dream,
Far less describe, present the very view
Which charm'd the charming Mary Montagu.

IV
I have a passion for the name of "Mary,"
For once it was a magic sound to me;
And still it half calls up the realms of fairy,
Where I beheld what never was to be;
All feelings changed, but this was last to vary,
A spell from which even yet I am not quite free:
But I grow sad -- and let a tale grow cold,
Which must not be pathetically told.

V
The wind swept down the Euxine, and the wave
Broke foaming o'er the blue Symplegades;
'T is a grand sight from off the Giant's Grave
To watch the progress of those rolling seas
Between the Bosphorus, as they lash and lave
Europe and Asia, you being quite at ease;
There's not a sea the passenger e'er pukes in,
Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxine.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Don Juan: Canto The Fifth

When amatory poets sing their loves
In liquid lines mellifluously bland,
And pair their rhymes as Venus yokes her doves,
They little think what mischief is in hand;
The greater their success the worse it proves,
As Ovid's verse may give to understand;
Even Petrarch's self, if judged with due severity,
Is the Platonic pimp of all posterity.

I therefore do denounce all amorous writing,
Except in such a way as not to attract;
Plain- simple- short, and by no means inviting,
But with a moral to each error tack'd,
Form'd rather for instructing than delighting,
And with all passions in their turn attack'd;
Now, if my Pegasus should not be shod ill,
This poem will become a moral model.

The European with the Asian shore
Sprinkled with palaces; the ocean stream
Here and there studded with a seventy-four;
Sophia's cupola with golden gleam;
The cypress groves; Olympus high and hoar;
The twelve isles, and the more than I could dream,
Far less describe, present the very view
Which charm'd the charming Mary Montagu.

I have a passion for the name of 'Mary,'
For once it was a magic sound to me;
And still it half calls up the realms of fairy,
Where I beheld what never was to be;
All feelings changed, but this was last to vary,
A spell from which even yet I am not quite free:
But I grow sad- and let a tale grow cold,
Which must not be pathetically told.

The wind swept down the Euxine, and the wave
Broke foaming o'er the blue Symplegades;
'T is a grand sight from off 'the Giant's Grave
To watch the progress of those rolling seas
Between the Bosphorus, as they lash and lave
Europe and Asia, you being quite at ease;
There 's not a sea the passenger e'er pukes in,
Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxine.

'T was a raw day of Autumn's bleak beginning,
When nights are equal, but not so the days;
The Parcae then cut short the further spinning
Of seamen's fates, and the loud tempests raise
The waters, and repentance for past sinning

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poem by Byron
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Fifth Book

AURORA LEIGH, be humble. Shall I hope
To speak my poems in mysterious tune
With man and nature,–with the lava-lymph
That trickles from successive galaxies
Still drop by drop adown the finger of God,
In still new worlds?–with summer-days in this,
That scarce dare breathe, they are so beautiful?–
With spring's delicious trouble in the ground
Tormented by the quickened blood of roots.
And softly pricked by golden crocus-sheaves
In token of the harvest-time of flowers?–
With winters and with autumns,–and beyond,
With the human heart's large seasons,–when it hopes
And fears, joys, grieves, and loves?–with all that strain
Of sexual passion, which devours the flesh
In a sacrament of souls? with mother's breasts,
Which, round the new made creatures hanging there,
Throb luminous and harmonious like pure spheres?–
With multitudinous life, and finally
With the great out-goings of ecstatic souls,
Who, in a rush of too long prisoned flame,
Their radiant faces upward, burn away
This dark of the body, issuing on a world
Beyond our mortal?–can I speak my verse
So plainly in tune to these things and the rest,
That men shall feel it catch them on the quick,
As having the same warrant over them
To hold and move them, if they will or no,
Alike imperious as the primal rhythm
Of that theurgic nature? I must fail,
Who fail at the beginning to hold and move
One man,–and he my cousin, and he my friend,
And he born tender, made intelligent,
Inclined to ponder the precipitous sides
Of difficult questions; yet, obtuse to me,–
Of me, incurious! likes me very well,
And wishes me a paradise of good,
Good looks, good means, and good digestion!–ay,
But otherwise evades me, puts me off
With kindness, with a tolerant gentleness,–
Too light a book for a grave man's reading! Go,
Aurora Leigh: be humble.
There it is;
We women are too apt to look to one,
Which proves a certain impotence in art.
We strain our natures at doing something great,
Far less because it's something great to do,
Than, haply, that we, so, commend ourselves
As being not small, and more appreciable
To some one friend. We must have mediators

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poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
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Tale V

THE PATRON.

A Borough-Bailiff, who to law was train'd,
A wife and sons in decent state maintain'd,
He had his way in life's rough ocean steer'd
And many a rock and coast of danger clear'd;
He saw where others fail'd, and care had he,
Others in him should not such feelings see:
His sons in various busy states were placed,
And all began the sweets of gain to taste,
Save John, the younger, who, of sprightly parts,
Felt not a love for money-making arts:
In childhood feeble, he, for country air,
Had long resided with a rustic pair;
All round whose room were doleful ballads, songs,
Of lovers' sufferings and of ladies' wrongs;
Of peevish ghosts who came at dark midnight,
For breach of promise, guilty men to fright;
Love, marriage, murder, were the themes, with

these,
All that on idle, ardent spirits seize;
Robbers at land and pirates on the main,
Enchanters foil'd, spells broken, giants slain;
Legends of love, with tales of halls and bowers,
Choice of rare songs, and garlands of choice

flowers,
And all the hungry mind without a choice devours.
From village-children kept apart by pride,
With such enjoyments, and without a guide,
Inspired by feelings all such works infused,
John snatch'd a pen, and wrote as he perused:
With the like fancy he could make his knight
Slay half a host, and put the rest to flight;
With the like knowledge he could make him ride
From isle to isle at Parthenissa's side;
And with a heart yet free, no busy brain
Form'd wilder notions of delight and pain,
The raptures smiles create, the anguish of disdain.
Such were the fruits of John's poetic toil -
Weeds, but still proofs of vigour in the soil:
He nothing purposed but with vast delight,
Let Fancy loose, and wonder'd at her flight:
His notions of poetic worth were high,
And of his own still-hoarded poetry; -
These to his father's house he bore with pride,
A miser's treasure, in his room to hide;
Till spurr'd by glory, to a reading friend,
He kindly show'd the sonnets he had penn'd:

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poem by George Crabbe
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