This is a collection of the readings of the writings of Rudyard Kipling
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Rudyard Kipling Podcasts
It is the best poem because it was voted the best poem by all people. Cover art photo provided by Efe Kurnaz on Unsplash: https://unsplash.com/@efekurnaz
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Overdue is a podcast about the books you've been meaning to read. Join Andrew and Craig each week as they tackle a new title from their backlog. Classic literature, obscure plays, goofy childen’s books: they'll read it all, one overdue book at a time.
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"The Jungle Book" is a timeless tale of adventure, friendship, and self-discovery in the wilds of the Indian jungle. Follow Mowgli, raised by wolves, as he encounters a captivating cast of characters, faces the challenges of survival, and learns profound life lessons in a world where the law of the jungle prevails. This classic is an enthralling exploration of human nature, our connection to the natural world, and the enduring power of storytelling. Visit https://krity.app/ for more books an ...
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The Man Who Would Be King tells the story of two British adventurers in British India who become kings of Kafiristan, a remote part of Afghanistan. It was inspired by the exploits of James Brooke, an Englishman who became the “white Raja” of Sarawak in Borneo, and by the travels of American adventurer Josiah Harlan, who claimed the title Prince of Ghor. The story was first published in The Phantom Rickshaw and other Tales (Volume Five of the Indian Railway Library, published by A H Wheeler & ...
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Robin Kermode reads his favourite children's stories. All the stories are about kindness and forgiveness in some form. Robin Kermode, is an actor, best selling author, leading Communication Coach, popular keynote speaker, body language expert, media commentator, and the author of SPEAK SO YOUR AUDIENCE WILL LISTEN. His podcast, THE ART OF COMMUNICATION, has over 20,000 listeners. For more information visit: www.robinkermode.com
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College-level conversations about the masters of horror literature from H.P. Lovecraft to Edgar Allan Poe and Stephen King.
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Listen to a new view of the world's classic poems, broadcast from Sri Lanka's Flame Tree Estate & Hotel in the jungle north west of Kandy.
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A journey to healthy, happy living. We are not going to sugar coat it, just sharing a little inspiration, motivation, and insight for the journey.
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Literally anything just contact, comment, or ask me. Cell phone no. @ 832-530-2464. Or email me @ [email protected]
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Exploring the spoken word. Let’s explore while we free our minds to wonder. Small clips posted routinely.
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This is where I will share poetic pieces and unique, uplifting insights I gain from them. Join me, Madison Erasmus, for a regular dose of literary inspiration. Cover art photo provided by Thought Catalog on Unsplash: https://unsplash.com/@thoughtcatalog
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Welcome to Marshall Garland's "Saba Reads: my weekend reading project". I do these weekly readings for my children and grandchildren. And anyone else who wants to listen!
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Won't you join me, Gerard Armbruster, as every week we take a wrong turn off life's interstate, and discover the straight story about the bend in the road, where nestle the small towns with big characters, to tug on the common thread that unravels the hand-me-down sweater of our national zeitgeist, and extrudes the truths of our lives. Perennial favorite: Postcard from Battersea, with Stetson Tudd.
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A bi-weekly show that discusses and examines the chivalric virtues as they apply to our modern lives. We touch on Modern Culture, Martial Arts, Personal Style and Grooming, Movies and lots of other topics. Whatever and wherever our conversation takes us.
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Welcome, to mostly stories, I’m your host, Ben Beecher. In this series, We flip through the pages of some of my favorite books that I used to read growing up. Some of these tales have been told many times before, some you may not have ever heard of. In any case, I hope you enjoy, Mostly Stories Cover art photo provided by Susan Yin on Unsplash: https://unsplash.com/@syinq
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Classic Poetry Aloud gives voice to poetry through podcast recordings of the great poems of the past. Our library of poems is intended as a resource for anyone interested in reading and listening to poetry. For us, it's all about the listening, and how hearing a poem can make it more accessible, as well as heightening its emotional impact. See more at: www.classicpoetryaloud.com
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PLEASE NOTE: The 'Great Writers Inspire' project has its own website which features much more extensive, diverse and updated content. Please visit https://writersinspires.org From Dickens to Shakespeare, from Chaucer to Kipling and from Austen to Blake, this significant collection contains inspirational short talks freely available to the public and the education community worldwide. This series is aimed primarily at first year undergraduates but will be of interest to school students prepar ...
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I've always wondered what it takes to make our dreams come true. How do we move from having a dream to becoming the dream? I have dedicated my life to understanding how to make our dreams possible. I have learned from my mentors, studied the scriptures, read hundreds of books and attended several seminars in the quest of finding the secret sauce to making our dreams come true. I am here to share them with you in this podcast. I want to go on the journey of my commitment to personal developme ...
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Power Naps have been proven to help you get the rest and energy you need and get back on track. In as little as 20 minutes, the Power Nap podcast can help get you in and out of sleep quickly - easily and (best of all) naturally. Our unique isochronic tones have been shown to help people easily enter a sleep state and bring you back to being fully awake, refreshed, and ready to take on the rest of your day. So forget the coffee and, take a power nap podcast instead. We have power naps in a va ...
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The Author Gilbert Keith Chesterton was born in London, England on the 29th of May, 1874. Though he considered himself a mere “rollicking journalist,” he was actually a prolific and gifted writer in virtually every area of literature. A man of strong opinions and enormously talented at defending them, his exuberant personality nevertheless allowed him to maintain warm friendships with people–such as George Bernard Shaw and H. G. Wells–with whom he vehemently disagreed. Chesterton had no diff ...
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You can’t sleep. Even worse? You can’t stay asleep. 7 million Americans suffer from a lack of sleep, for some, it's temporary for others it’s an ongoing problem. The Stop the Insomnia Now podcast is an effective answer to your sleep problems. Because of our experience with advanced relaxation techniques, our team has crafted these unique and exclusive isochronic enhanced audio tracks and guided meditations to help you fall asleep fast and stay asleep longer. The Stop the Insomnia Now Podcast ...
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Ep. 218: The Hospice by Robert Aickman - Discussion
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52:03Good food, some accommodation. Grab a copy of Uncertain Sons by Thomas Ha. Support the show and gain access to over three dozen bonus episodes by becoming a patron on Patreon. Rate and review the show to help us reach more readers and listeners. Not enough science-fiction and fantasy in yo…
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Ep 726 - I Know What You Did Last Summer, by Lois Duncan
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1:18:47Did you know that the classic 1997 slasher film I Know What You Did Last Summer was actually based on a propulsive young adult thriller from 1973? Lois Duncan's original novel isn't too interested in bloody kills, however. It's more focused on how young people build their identities: around their regrets, around their parents, and around tragedies.…
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Sit Me Baby One More Time Ep 04 - Mary Anne Saves the Day (The Baby-Sitters Club #4)
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53:12Fresh off their victory over the Baby-Sitters Agency, the girls of the BSC turn on each other in this month's entry. Quiet Mary Anne has to get the group back together, negotiate with her well-meaning but strict single father, make and repair a new friendship, and engineer an unlikely meet-cute. And, of course, she needs to tend to some babysitting…
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Ep 725 - The Haunted Baby (Choose Your Own Nightmare #13), by Edward Packard
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1:16:59An official offshoot of the classic Choose Your Own Adventure series, the Choose Your Own Nightmare books cropped up for a couple of years in the mid-90s, an (alleged) response to the popularity of our old friend RL Stine’s Goosebumps series. Stine’s somewhat longer-lived Give Yourself Goosebumps sub-series would launch just months after the first …
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Ep. 217: The Hospice by Robert Aickman - Recap
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1:05:27Good food, some accommodation. Grab a copy of Uncertain Sons by Thomas Ha. Support the show and gain access to over three dozen bonus episodes by becoming a patron on Patreon. Rate and review the show to help us reach more readers and listeners. Not enough science-fiction and fantasy in your lif…
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Ep 724 - Dark Carnival, by Ray Bradbury
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1:30:45Everybody loves our old friend Ray Bradbury! This time we’re taking a spin with his first short story collection Dark Carnival, a smattering of spooky tales that wound up scattered across a number of other collections throughout Bradbury’s career. Stories discussed in this episode include: The Small Assassin The Dead Man Skeleton The Scythe The Emi…
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Ep 723 - Of Monsters and Mainframes, by Barbara Truelove
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1:16:52A buzzy title that came to life thanks to BookTok but came to our attention because of a good-old bookstore shelf display, this week’s book (and the kickoff to Spooktober 2025) is what it says on the cover: it’s about monsters and also computers. If you didn’t associate either of these things with “found family,” then it’s also here to challenge so…
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Ep. 216: The Isle of Missing Ships by Seabury Quinn
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1:25:39Cannibal pirates! Grab a copy of Uncertain Sons by Thomas Ha. Support the show and gain access to over three dozen bonus episodes by becoming a patron on Patreon. Rate and review the show to help us reach more readers and listeners. Not enough science-fiction and fantasy in your life? Join us on …
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Ep 722 - The Jungle Book, by Rudyard Kipling
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1:09:56Rudyard Kipling's classic story collection The Jungle Book doesn't have a jazz orangutan named Louie, but it does have the bare necessities of imperialist fiction. The stories about Mowgli and other trailblazing animals all contain a whiff of "But what about the rigid hierarchy of nature?" And when every animal is personified...well...those simple …
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T.S. Eliot.  East Coker from The Four Quartets, Part 1.
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4:16I In my beginning is my end. In succession Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended, Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass. Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires, Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth Which is already flesh, fur and faeces, Bone of man and beast, cornst…
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Ithaka.by C.P Cavafy As you set out for Ithaka hope your road is a long one, full of adventure, full of discovery. Laistrygonians, Cyclops, angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them: you’ll never find things like that on your way as long as you keep your thoughts raised high, as long as a rare excitement stirs your spirit and your body. Laistrygonians…
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Hilaire Belloc.  Matilda Who Told Lies, And Was Burned To Death.
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2:53Matilda told such Dreadful Lies, It made one Gasp and Stretch one's Eyes; Her Aunt, who, from her Earliest Youth, Had kept a Strict Regard for Truth, Attempted to Believe Matilda: The effort very nearly killed her, And would have done so, had not She Discovered this Infirmity. For once, towards the Close of Day, Matilda, growing tired of play, And …
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They shut the road through the woods Seventy years ago. Weather and rain have undone it again, And now you would never know There was once a road through the woods Before they planted the trees. It is underneath the coppice and heath, And the thin anemones. Only the keeper sees That, where the ring-dove broods, And the badgers roll at ease, There w…
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What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? — Only the monstrous anger of the guns. Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle Can patter out their hasty orisons. No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells; Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,— The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells; And bugles calling for them from sad shires. …
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A.E. Housman.  Tell Me Not Here, It Needs Not Saying.
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2:26Tell me not here, it needs not saying, What tune the enchantress plays In aftermaths of soft September Or under blanching mays, For she and I were long acquainted And I knew all her ways. On russet floors, by waters idle, The pine lets fall its cone; The cuckoo shouts all day at nothing In leafy dells alone; And traveller's joy beguiles in autumn H…
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Again last night at a country inn crows cried at dawn. Today how many miles again lead where? Away to the mountains, to the plains? With no place that calls me I go nowhere. Don’t talk of my home, Chongju, Kwaksan, while the train and the boat go there. Hear me, wild geese in the sky: is there a road in the air that you travel so sure? Hear me, wil…
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Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies. Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand, dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, & what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat. W…
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I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air, Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their…
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You might say the streets flow sweetly through the night. The lights are dim so the secret will be kept, the secret known by the men who come and go, for they’re all in on the secret and why break it up in a thousand pieces when it’s so sweet to hold it close, and share it only with the one chosen person. If, at a given moment, everyone would say w…
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Wallace Stevens.  Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
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3:17I Among twenty snowy mountains, The only moving thing Was the eye of the blackbird. II I was of three minds, Like a tree In which there are three blackbirds. III The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds. It was a small part of the pantomime. IV A man and a woman Are one. A man and a woman and a blackbird Are one. V I do not know which to prefer, T…
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What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare. No time to stand beneath the boughs And stare as long as sheep or cows. No time to see, when woods we pass, Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass. No time to see, in broad daylight, Streams full of stars, like skies at night. No time to turn at Beauty's glance, And watch her…
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I That is no country for old men. The young In one another’s arms, birds in the trees, —Those dying generations—at their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unageing intellect. II An aged man is bu…
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‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller, Knocking on the moonlit door; And his horse in the silence champed the grasses Of the forest’s ferny floor: And a bird flew up out of the turret, Above the Traveller’s head: And he smote upon the door again a second time; ‘Is there anybody there?’ he said. But no one descended to the Traveller; No head …
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Lay your sleeping head, my love, Human on my faithless arm; Time and fevers burn away Individual beauty from Thoughtful children, and the grave Proves the child ephemeral: But in my arms till break of day Let the living creature lie, Mortal, guilty, but to me The entirely beautiful. Soul and body have no bounds: To lovers as they lie upon Her toler…
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When spring begins and the ice-locked streams begin To flow down from the snowy hills above And the clods begin to crumble in the breeze, The time has come for my groaning ox to drag My heavy plow across the fields, so that The plow blade shines as the furrow rubs against it. Not till the earth has been twice plowed, so twice Exposed to sun and twi…
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The Waking. By Theodore Roethke. I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. I feel my fate in what I cannot fear. I learn by going where I have to go. We think by feeling. What is there to know? I hear my being dance from ear to ear. I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. Of those so close beside me, which are you? God bless the Ground! I shall w…
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Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning: I was much further out than you thought And not waving but drowning. Poor chap, he always loved larking And now he’s dead It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way, They said. Oh, no no no, it was too cold always (Still the dead one lay moaning) I was much too far out all my life…
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I leant upon a coppice gate When Frost was spectre-grey, And Winter's dregs made desolate The weakening eye of day. The tangled bine-stems scored the sky Like strings of broken lyres, And all mankind that haunted nigh Had sought their household fires. The land's sharp features seemed to be The Century's corpse outleant, His crypt the cloudy canopy,…
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I wake up cold, I who Prospered through dreams of heat Wake to their residue, Sweat, and a clinging sheet. My flesh was its own shield: Where it was gashed, it healed. I grew as I explored The body I could trust Even while I adored The risk that made robust, A world of wonders in Each challenge to the skin. I cannot but be sorry The given shield wa…
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To you I have given wings, on which you may fly aloft Above the boundless sea and all the earth With ease. At feasts and banquets you will be present On all occasions, lying in the mouths of many, And to the clear-toned sound of pipes young men With seemly grace and loveliness, their voices fair and clear, Will sing of you. And when beneath the hol…
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In addition there is fashioned there an ancient fisherman and a rock, a rugged rock, on which with might and main the old man poises a great net for the cast as one who puts his whole heart into it. One would say that he was fishing with the full strength of his limbs so big do his muscles stand out about the neck. Gray-haired though he be, he has …
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His palace is of skulls. His crown is the last splinters Of the vessel of life. His throne is the scaffold of bones, the hanged thing’s Rack and final stretcher. His robe is the black of the last blood. His kingdom is empty- The empty world, from which the last cry Flapped hugely, hopelessly away Into the blindness and dumbness and deafness of the …
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Lady Lazarus. By Sylvia Plath. I have done it again. One year in every ten I manage it—— A sort of walking miracle, my skin Bright as a Nazi lampshade, My right foot A paperweight, My face a featureless, fine Jew linen. Peel off the napkin O my enemy. Do I terrify?—— The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth? The sour breath Will vanish in a da…
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Along the route of this river, with a little luck, we shall chance upon our brothers' fortune, hidden with that cold smile reserved for discreet bankers unmindful of the hydra growing fiery mornings from our discontent Wealth was always fashionable, telluric, not honor pristine and profound. In blasphemous glee, they raise to God's lips those cups …
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Child, how happy you are sitting in the dust, playing with a broken twig all the morning. I smile at your play with that little bit of a broken twig. I am busy with my accounts, adding up figures by the hour. Perhaps you glance at me and think, "What a stupid game to spoil your morning with!" Child, I have forgotten the art of being absorbed in sti…
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Tenderly, day that I have loved, I close your eyes, And smooth your quiet brow, and fold your thin dead hands. The grey veils of the half-light deepen; colour dies. I bear you, a light burden, to the shrouded sands, Where lies your waiting boat, by wreaths of the sea's making Mist-garlanded, with all grey weeds of the water crowned. There you'll be…
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William Shakespeare.  As You Like It, Act 2, Scene 7.
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2:33All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms. Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to sch…
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Robert Herrick.  To The Virgins, To Make Much Of Time.
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1:35Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles today Tomorrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he’s a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he’s to setting. That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, a…
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There was Dai Puw. He was no good. They put him in the fields to dock swedes, And took the knife from him, when he came home At late evening with a grin Like the slash of a knife on his face. There was Llew Puw, and he was no good. Every evening after the ploughing With the big tractor he would sit in his chair, And stare into the tangled fire gard…
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I knew a simple soldier boy Who grinned at life in empty joy, Slept soundly through the lonesome dark, And whistled early with the lark. In winter trenches, cowed and glum, With crumps and lice and lack of rum, He put a bullet through his brain. No one spoke of him again. You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye Who cheer when soldier lads march by,…
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Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests; snug as a gun. Under my window, a clean rasping sound When the spade sinks into gravelly ground: My father, digging. I look down Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds Bends low, comes up twenty years away Stooping in rhythm through potato drills Where he was digging. The coarse boot nestled…
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There is a place where the sidewalk ends And before the street begins, And there the grass grows soft and white, And there the sun burns crimson bright, And there the moon-bird rests from his flight To cool in the peppermint wind. Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends. Past the pits where the asphal…
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Some say thronging cavalry, some say foot soldiers, others call a fleet the most beautiful of sights the dark earth offers, but I say it's what- ever you love best. And it's easy to make this understood by everyone, for she who surpassed all human kind in beauty, Helen, abandoning her husband—that best of men—went sailing off to the shores of Troy …
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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 mock…
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