Property:Has text
From Off the Road Database
This is a property of type Text.
O
<div class="poem">
<p>He said, when he answered in reply,<br />
"I thought that heaven was up on high.<br />
From what you say of your state so fair,<br />
I think that heaven must be out there."
</p>
</div> +
A
<div class="poem">
<p>He shut the door.<br />
The Doctor slid a little down the pillow.
</p>
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F
<div class="poem">
<p>He was not a father, just now, but a passenger trying not to irritate the driver. He smiled in a waxy way, and said, "Hard luck! Well, you did the best you could. The other hole, there in the road, would have been just as bad. You're a fine driver, dolly."
</p>
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M
<div class="poem">
<p>He went to war and gained renown,<br />
In every fight he stood his ground,<br />
Bullets passed him thick and fast,<br />
Not a scratch from first to last.
</p>
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X
<div class="poem">
<p>Head-gears gaunt on grass-grown pit-banks, seams abandoned years ago; <br />
Drop a stone and listen for its splash in flooded dark below.
</p>
</div> +
G
<div class="poem">
<p>Head-gears gaunt on grass-grown pit-banks, seams abandoned years ago; <br />
Drop a stone and listen for its splash in flooded dark below.
</p>
</div> +
F
<div class="poem">
<p>Her father spoke: "You're biting your lips. They'll bleed, if you don't look out. Better stop and rest.
</p>
</div> +
<div class="poem">
<p>Her father was silent, a misty figure in a lap-robe. The rain streaked the mica lights in the side-curtains. A distant train whistled desolately across the sodden fields. The inside of the car smelled musty. The quiet was like a blanket over the ears. Claire was in a hazy drowse. She felt that she could never drive again.
</p>
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<div class="poem">
<p>Her smile was warm and real. "No. I'm a fool. You told me to put on chains. I didn't. I deserve it."
</p>
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K
<div class="poem">
<p>Hey! de flag is gone do'n, oh!<br />
Off at grips de harses go!<br />
Dainty's leadin' at a boun',<br />
Stirrup-cup is gainin' ground':<br />
Strainin', eager strainin' faces<br />
At de Knutsford Park big races.
</p>
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F
<div class="poem">
<p>Hey, Buddy! <br />
Look at me!
</p>
</div> +
<div class="poem">
<p>Hey, Buddy, look! <br />
I'm makin' a road!
</p>
</div> +
I
<div class="poem">
<p>High noon. White sun flashes on the Michigan Avenue asphalt. Drum of hoofs and whirr of motors. Women trapsing along in flimsy clothes catching play of sun-fire to their skin and eyes.
</p>
</div> +
S
<div class="poem">
<p>Holy, holy, holy, sang the choir,<br />
From singing holy seemed to never tire,<br />
We were told it was an anthem grand,<br />
Sung in churches through the land.
</p>
</div> +
<div class="poem">
<p>Holy, holy, on they sang,<br />
The church with holy, holy, rang,<br />
They kept right on to holy sing,<br />
We thought a change the proper thing.
</p>
</div> +
X
<div class="poem">
<p>Hope and fear are neck and neck: which is it near the course’s end <br />
Crashes, having lost his nerve; is overtaken on the bend?
</p>
</div> +
G
<div class="poem">
<p>Hope and fear are neck and neck: which is it near the course’s end <br />
Crashes, having lost his nerve; is overtaken on the bend?
</p>
</div> +
B
<div class="poem">
<p>How we used to pick berries : we took one look round,<br />
Then sank out of sight like trolls underground,<br />
And saw nothing more of each other, or heard,<br />
Unless when you said I was keeping a bird<br />
Away from its nest, and I said it was you.<br />
' Well, one of us is.' For complaining it flew<br />
Around and around us. And then for a while<br />
We picked, till I feared you had wandered a mile,<br />
And I thought I had lost you. I lifted a shout<br />
Too loud for the distance you were, it turned out,<br />
For when you made answer, your voice was as low<br />
As talking—you stood up beside me, you know.
</p>
</div> +
C
<div class="poem">
<p>However, in a few days Briscoe wrote to Fred, asking if he would outfit the car in Denver, drive it to the Pacific Coast, then meet it in Detroit and drive it to New York City in time for the winter motor show. He said he would send a man from the factory to go as observer if he had no one in Denver to go with him. It appalled us at first to think of driving such a little car over the long, uninhabited distances we knew existed throughout some of the western states. We never would have entertained the idea if Fred hadn't been such a good automobile mechanic. We had been to California by train several times over different roads and knew something of what to expect, traveling over the mountain ranges and passes so late in the season.
</p>
</div> +
A
<div class="poem">
<p>Hush, hush, these woods are thick with shapes and voices,<br />
They crowd behind, in front, <br />
Scarcely can one’s wheels break through them. <br />
For God’s sake, drive quickly! <br />
There are butchered victims behind those trees, <br />
And what you say is moss I know is the dead hair of hanged men. <br />
Drive faster, faster.<br />
The hair will catch in our wheels and clog them;<br />
We are thrown from side to side by the dead bodies in the road,<br />
Do you not smell the reek of them, <br />
And see the jaundiced film that hides the stars?<br />
Stand on the accelerator. I would rather be bumped to a jelly<br />
Than caught by clutching hands I cannot see, <br />
Than be stifled by the press of mouths I cannot feel. <br />
Not in the light glare, you fool, but on either side of it. <br />
Curse these swift, running trees, <br />
Hurl them aside, leap them, crush them down, <br />
Say prayers if you like, <br />
Do anything to drown the screaming silence of this forest, <br />
To hide the spinning shapes that jam the trees. <br />
What mystic adventure is this <br />
In which you have engulfed me? <br />
What no-world have you shot us into? <br />
What Dante dream without a farther edge? <br />
Fright kills, they say, and I believe it. <br />
If you would not have murder on your conscience,<br />
For Heaven’s sake, get on!
</p>
</div> +
