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“But Poetry's dead,”
they say
“And Song and Drama, Painting too!
No Muse. No Bard.
To write in verse and meter's
simply wrong and rhyme
is only for a greeting card.
There's nothing more to...
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The sea is deep.
The sea is vast.
The winds, they die.
The winds they blast.
Does he think of the sheets on the clothes-lines
As he darts mid the rigging and sails?
Does his ship rock him...
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How strong it is, this feeling of regret,
You long to see the lands and loves you've known.
(For Eden's flowers fade if you forget)
In dreams you may return, but wake alone.
Yes, now I know...
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Let's hear it for the spirit.
Now lift your voice in song.
But if your arm's too weak, my friend,
You'd best not sing along.
So drink to the fellow with the scar on his chest
And drink to...
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lxxi
And when the Steward held the harp he cried,
"How did you get it? Please, I have to know!"
Etain then answered him, "Sir, once I spied
At noon a sloe-black raven hovering low
...
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For three long years he pined so for Etain.
His lips were chapped, his feet were bruised and sore.
His beard grew long. So hoary was his mane!
His arms waxed strong and yet his body waned
So...
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iv
The land was poor. She little knew of seeds.
Yet she was just and everyone ate bread.
One morning on the shore amid the reeds
She found a body lying almost dead!
A man it was! She...
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