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Custard the Dragon and the Wicked Knight
by Ogden Nash Copyright © 1961 by Ogden Nash | |
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You could tell he was wicked, for he reeked of roguery, He was like an ogre, only twice as ogre-y, He was twice as big as a big gorilla, And covered with armor like an armadilla Armor on the front of him, armor on the back, And every inch of it thunderstorm-black. | Topic: |
Sir Garagoyle spluttered like a sprinker-wagon, A knight can always beat a dragon!
Pooh! said Custard. How you rant! A true knight could, but a wicked knight cant. | Topic: |
text checked (see note) May 2005 |
Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822) | |
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I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed: And on the pedestal these words appear: My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away. | Topics: |
text checked (see note) Feb 2005 |
The Garden of Proserpine
by Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837-1909) | |
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Note (Hals): end note From too much love of living, From hope and fear set free, We thank with brief thanksgiving Whatever gods may be That no life lives for ever; That dead men rise up never; That even the weariest river Winds somewhere safe to sea. | Topic: |
text checked (see note) Feb 2005 |
Ulysses
by Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892) | |
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Though much is taken, much abides; and though We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. | Topic: |
text checked (see note) Feb 2005 |
The Second Coming
by William Butler Yeats | |
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Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the center cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity. | |
text checked (see note) Feb 2005 |