Selections from the American PoetsCambridge Scholars Publishing, 2012 - 322 Seiten Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: Yet the true form, as near as she can tell, Is that small section of a goose egg shell, Which in two equal portions shall divide The distance from the centre to the side. Fear not to slaver; 'tis no deadly sin; Like the free Frenchman, from your joyous chin Suspend the ready napkin; or, like me, Poise with one hand your bowl upon your knee; Just in the zenith your wise head project, Your full spoon, rising in a line direct, Bold as a bucket, heeds no drops that fall, The wide-mouth'd bowl will surely catch them all Robert C. Sands. SLEEP OF PAPANTZIN. 'twas then, one eve, when o'er the imperial lake And all its cities, glittering in their pomp, The lord of glory threw his parting smiles, In Tlatelolco's palace, in her bower, Papantzin lay reclined; sister of him At whose name monarchs trembled. Yielding there To musings various, o'er her senses crept Or sleep or kindred death. It seemed she stood In an illimitable plain, that stretched Its desert continuity around, Upon the o'erwearied sight; in contrast strange With that rich vale, where only she had dwelt, Whose everlasting mountains, girdling it, As in a chalice held a kingdom's wealth; Their summits freezing, where the eagle tired, But found no resting-place. Papantziu looked On endless barrenness, and walked perplexed Through the dull haze, along the boundless heath, Like some lone ghost in Mictlan's cheerless gloom Debarred from light and glory. Wandering thus, She came where a great sullen river poured Its turbid waters with a rushing sound Of painful moans; as if the inky waves Were hastening still on their complaining course To escape the horrid solitudes. Beyond What seemed a highway ran, with branching paths Innumerous. This to gain, she sought to plunge Straight in the troubled stream. For well she... |