A poem is a little machine for remembering itself
A poem is a little machine for remembering itself
The Vulture The Vulture eats between his meals And that's the reason why He very, very rarely feels As well…
From Ode to Memory Thou who stealest fire, From the fountains of the past, To glorify the present, oh, haste,…
He & She When I am dead you'll find it hard, Said he, To ever find another man Like me,…