On 2/20/17 3:41 PM, JOANNA A. wrote:
> ...the small rain down can rain.
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> Christ, that my love were in my arms, and I in my bed again.
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> ----- Original Message -----
> If design govern in a thing so small
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> . . .my pulse, like a soft drum
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> But still I love thee without art
> Ancient person of my heart
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> Gull against the wind
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> We should like to know how that was done
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> Their eyes, their ancient glittering eyes, are gay
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> Western wind, when wilt thou blow
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> And take the winds of march with beauty
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> God said, let Newton be, and all was light
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> This filthy simile, this beastly line
> Quite turns my stomach
> P. So does flattery mine
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> A girl who knew all Dante once
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> For a moment she rested against me
> Like a swallow half blown to the wall
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> Die early and avoid the fate
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> To knock, that a Blunt should open
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> A burnt match skating in a urinal
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> That scalds me now-that scalds me now!
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> Thou last great prophet of tautology
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> The music in my heart I bore
> Long after it was heard no more
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> The wanton troopers riding by
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> Oh thou Dalhousie, the great God of War
> Lieutenant-Colonel to the Earl of Mar
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> They hand in hand with wandring steps and slow,
> Through Eden took thir solitarie way.
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> Light fighting for speed
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> Now my old bawd is dead
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> Both sides of the river, we died just the same.
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