Property:Has text
From Off the Road Database
This is a property of type Text.
C
<div class="poem">
<p>Crowded—can we believe,<br />
not in utter disgust,<br />
in ironical play—<br />
but the maker of cities grew faint<br />
with the beauty of temple<br />
and space before temple,<br />
arch upon perfect arch,<br />
of pillars and corridors that led out<br />
to strange court-yards and porches<br />
where sun-light stamped<br />
hyacinth-shadows<br />
black on the pavement.
</p>
</div> +
<div class="poem">
<p>DIFFICULTY GOING IN THE MOUNTAINS OF UTAH
</p>
</div> +
T
<div class="poem">
<p>Daemon, demurring and eventful yawn!<br />
Whose hideous laughter is a bellows mirth<br />
—Or the muffled slaughter of a day in birth—<br />
O cruelly to inoculate the brinking dawn<br />
With antennae toward worlds that glow and sink;—<br />
To spoon us out more liquid than the dim<br />
Locution of the eldest star, and pack<br />
The conscience navelled in the plunging wind,<br />
Umbilical to call—and straightway die!
</p>
</div> +
<div class="poem">
<p>Dare we betray this moment?<br />
Dare we die, missing this fire?<br />
Whither goes massive Earth tonight, flying with the stars down eternity?<br />
We are alive: we are for each other.
</p>
</div> +
<div class="poem">
<p>David, of Asia, I do hear now...<br />
I do hear now the music of the spheres—<br />
I have stepped one step into the desert of Loneliness,<br />
I have turned my ear from the world to my own self...<br />
I have paused, stood still, listened.
</p>
</div> +
R
<div class="poem">
<p>Deadness of English winter, dreariness,<br />
cold sky over provincial towns, mist.<br />
Melancholy of undulating trams<br />
solitary jangling through muddy streets,<br />
narrowness, imperfection, dullness,<br />
black extinguisher over English towns;<br />
mediocre women in dull clothes—<br />
their nudity a disaster—<br />
heavy cunning men (guts and passbooks),<br />
relics of gentry, workmen on bicycles,<br />
puffy small whores, baby carriages,<br />
shops, newspapers, bets, cinemas, allotments . . .
</p>
</div> +
O
<div class="poem">
<p>Desire naked, linked with Passion,<br />
Goes strutting by in brazen fashion;<br />
<span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-inline-start: 2em;"> From playhouse, cabaret and inn</span><br />
The rainbow lights of Broadway blaze<br />
<span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-inline-start: 2em;"> All gay without, all glad within;</span><br />
As in a dream I stand and gaze<br />
At Broadway, shining Broadway—only<br />
My heart, my heart is lonely.
</p>
</div> +
T
<div class="poem">
<p>Despair! Despair! That is the sea<br />
Which ever is at our feet,<br />
Seeks to envelop you and me,<br />
In ruin full, complete,<br />
Cause us to deem this life a curse<br />
And make death's name sound sweet.
</p>
</div> +
<div class="poem">
<p>Do not discouraged ever be<br />
Because the end you cannot see.<br />
Many possessing the lion’s part,<br />
Had to make the poor man’s start.
</p>
</div> +
S
<div class="poem">
<p>Down the road someone is practising scales,<br />
The notes like little fishes vanish with a wink of tails,<br />
Man’s heart expands to tinker with his car<br />
For this is Sunday morning, Fate’s great bazaar,<br />
Regard these means as ends, concentrate on this Now,<br />
And you may grow to music or drive beyond Hindhead anyhow,<br />
Take corners on two wheels until you go so fast<br />
That you can clutch a fringe or two of the windy past,<br />
That you can abstract this day and make it to the week of time<br />
A small eternity, a sonnet self-contained in rhyme.
</p>
</div> +
X
<div class="poem">
<p>Drop those priggish ways for ever, stop behaving like a stone: <br />
Throw the bath-chairs right away, and learn to leave ourselves alone.
</p>
</div> +
G
<div class="poem">
<p>Drop those priggish ways for ever, stop behaving like a stone: <br />
Throw the bath-chairs right away, and learn to leave ourselves alone.
</p>
</div> +
C
<div class="poem">
<p>Dust and the thundering trucks won—the barrages of the street wheels and the lawless wind took their way—was it five weeks or six the little mother, the new neighbors, battled and then took away the white prayers in the windows?
</p>
</div> +
<div class="poem">
<p>Dust of the feet<br />
And dust of the wheels,<br />
Wagons and people going,<br />
All day feet and wheels.
</p>
</div> +
T
<div class="poem">
<p>Earth and stars are in a trance,<br />
They dream of passion, but cannot break their sleep.<br />
They pass into us, and we are their passion, we are their madness,<br />
So shaped that we can kiss and clasp...<br />
One kiss, then death, the miracle being spent.
</p>
</div> +
P
<div class="poem">
<p>Ef you want lost póliceman,<br />
<span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-inline-start: 3em;"> Go dere Sunday night,</span><br />
Where you'll see them, every one<br />
<span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-inline-start: 3em;"> Lookin' smart an' bright :</span><br />
Policeman of every rank,<br />
<span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-inline-start: 3em;"> Rural ones an' all,</span><br />
In de bar or on de bank,<br />
<span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-inline-start: 3em;"> Each one in them sall.</span>
</p>
</div> +
X
<div class="poem">
<p>Engine-drivers with their oil-cans, factory girls in overalls <br />
Blowing sky-high monster stores, destroying intellectuals?
</p>
</div> +
G
<div class="poem">
<p>Engine-drivers with their oil-cans, factory girls in overalls <br />
Blowing sky-high monster stores, destroying intellectuals?
</p>
</div> +
O
<div class="poem">
<p>Ere their sowing's ended<br />
They turn them on their track,<br />
Look at the caitiff craven wights<br />
Repentant, hurrying back!<br />
Grown ashamed of nowhere,<br />
Of rags endured for years,<br />
Lust for velvet in their hearts,<br />
Pierced with Mammon's spears,<br />
All but a few fanatics<br />
Give up their darling goal,<br />
Seek to be as others are,<br />
Stultify the soul.<br />
Reapings now confront them,<br />
Glut them, or destroy.<br />
Curious seeds, grain or weeds<br />
Sown with awful joy.<br />
Hurried is their harvest,<br />
They make soft peace with men.<br />
Pilgrims pass. They care not,<br />
Will not tramp again.
</p>
</div> +
T
<div class="poem">
<p>Every man from day to day<br />
Should save a portion of his pay.<br />
If what you save is only small,<br />
Still it’s more than none at all.
</p>
</div> +
