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Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Auden, Wystan Hugh Genre Poetry Journal or Book W. H. Auden Publisher Faber and Faber Year of Publication 1927 Pages 3 Additional information - Who stands, the crux left of the watershed, On the wet road between the chafing grass Below him sees dismantled washing-floors, Snatches of tramline running to the wood, An industry already comatose, Yet sparsely living. A ramshackle engine At Cashwell raises water; for ten years It lay in flooded workings until this, Its latter office, grudgingly performed. And further here and there, though many dead Lie under the poor soil, some acts are chosen Taken from recent winters; two there were Cleaned out a damaged shaft by hand, clutching The winch the gale would tear them from; one died During a storm, the fells impassable, Not at his village, but in wooden shape Through long abandoned levels nosed his way And in his final valley went to ground. road forest road condition engine personification risk safety death winter storm Go home, now, stranger, proud of your young stock, Stranger, turn back again, frustrate and vexed: This land, cut off, will not communicate, Be no accessory content to one Aimless for faces rather there than here. Beams from your car may cross a bedroom wall, They wake no sleeper; you may hear the wind Arriving driven from the ignorant sea To hurt itself on pane, on bark of elm Where sap unbaffled rises, being Spring; But seldom this. Near you, taller than grass, Ears poise before decision, scenting danger. affect risk car metaphor wind ocean tree spring sound safety wind ocean tree spring sound safety +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Birney, Earle Genre Poetry Journal or Book The Collected Poems of Earle Birney Publisher McClelland Steward Year of Publication 1928 Pages 38-39 Additional information - & you as remote now as that range radiating heat not holding it the buttes rainstormed but instant dryers i remember you like opera ive a hitchhiker but he wont talk i keep radioing words to you but what to say you’d really like? o luvalee the peach & almond petals? sure but it’s too late in the spring now dear tease ive left ploughed earth & the green ricefields behind revved thru towns with dusty palms yes damn you im up thru spidery almonds no more wine & oranges into hot canyons between bare yellow breasts of hill something vulgar about the landscape as well as me or is it just this jalopy’s had it? my conrods clank the rad’s jerked off again will i ever make vancouver? hitchiker sound affect car part metaphor Northwest passenger scenery season spring plant agriculture desert topography my hitch decided no got out at the last crossroad & just passed waving from a new studebaker at me leaning against this robbers-roost garage with time to telepath you something while they screw in a new pump i dont need hitchhiker car model garage infrastructure car part maintenance passenger well what’s to say? the view looks edible peppered with black oaks white barns for salt a saffron sunset “there you go being physical again” i can hear you well why not? this goddamn sky’s one big red cherry now & the sacramento’s a hairy crack between the white thighs of the liveoaks & by geez if there aint a rock-prick a-purplin up in all this stagey Eden northwest taste tree sky river religion plant scenery but you’re not on my wavelength & now the crate’s cooled we'll sign off head on north you said you hoped to see more of me in the fall but will we ever fall together? that would be really operatic. metaphor technology +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Crane, Hart Genre Poetry Journal or Book The Collected Poems of Hart Crane Publisher Liveright Publishing Corporation Year of Publication 1933 Pages 49-54 Additional information - To Find the Western path Right thro' the Gates of Wrath —Blake Performances, assortments, résumés— Up Times Square to Columbus Circle lights Channel the congresses, nightly sessions, Refractions of the thousand theatres, faces— Mysterious kitchens.... You shall search them all. Some day by heart you’ll learn each famous sight And watch the curtain lift in hell’s despite; You’ll find the garden in the third act dead, Finger your knees—and wish yourself in bed With tabloid crime-sheets perched in easy sight. city urban Then let you reach your hat and go. As usual, let you—also walking down—exclaim to twelve upward leaving a subscription praise for what time slays. pedestrian Or can’t you quite make up your mind to ride; A walk is better underneath the L a brisk Ten blocks or so before? But you find yourself Preparing penguin flexions of the arms,— As usual you will meet the scuttle yawn: The subway yawns the quickest promise home. pedestrian infrastructure urban Be minimum, then, to swim the hiving swarms Out of the Square, the Circle burning bright— Avoid the glass doors gyring at your right, Where boxed alone a second, eyes take fright —Quite unprepared rush naked back to light: And down beside the turnstile press the coin Into the slot. The gongs already rattle. urban city infrastructure sound visibility And so of cities you bespeak subways, rivered under streets and rivers.... In the car the overtone of motion underground, the monotone of motion is the sound of other faces, also underground— city infrastructure train car sound “Let’s have a pencil Jimmy—living now at Floral Park Flatbush—on the Fourth of July— like a pigeon’s muddy dream—potatoes to dig in the field—travlin the town—too— night after night—the Culver line—the girls all shaping up—it used to be—” Our tongues recant like beaten weather vanes. This answer lives like verdigris, like hair Beyond extinction, surcease of the bone; And repetition freezes—“What “what do you want? getting weak on the links? fandaddle daddy don’t ask for change—IS THIS FOURTEENTH? it’s half past six she said—if you don’t like my gate why did you swing on it, why didja swing on it anyhow—” And somehow anyhow swing— The phonographs of hades in the brain Are tunnels that re-wind themselves, and love A burnt match skating in a urinal— Somewhere above Fourteenth TAKE THE EXPRESS To brush some new presentiment of pain— city urban “But I want service in this office SERVICE I said—after the show she cried a little afterwards but—” Whose head is swinging from the swollen strap? Whose body smokes along the bitten rails, Bursts from a smoldering bundle far behind In back forks of the chasms of the brain,— Puffs from a riven stump far out behind In interborough fissures of the mind...? And why do I often meet your visage here, Your eyes like agate lanterns—on and on Below the toothpaste and the dandruff ads? —And did their riding eyes right through your side, And did their eyes like unwashed platters ride? And Death, aloft,—gigantically down Probing through you—toward me, O evermore! And when they dragged your retching flesh, Your trembling hands that night through Baltimore— That last night on the ballot rounds, did you Shaking, did you deny the ticket, Poe? infrastructure intertext train For Gravesend Manor change at Chambers Street. The platform hurries along to a dead stop. The intent escalator lifts a serenade Stilly Of shoes, umbrellas, each eye attending its shoe, then Bolting outright somewhere above where streets Burst suddenly in rain.... The gongs recur: Elbows and levers, guard and hissing door. Thunder is galvothermic here below.... The car Wheels off. The train rounds, bending to a scream, Taking the final level for the dive Under the river— And somewhat emptier than before, Demented, for a hitching second, humps; then Lets go.... Toward corners of the floor Newspapers wing, revolve and wing. Blank windows gargle signals through the roar. rain thunder train sound And does the Daemon take you home, also, Wop washerwoman, with the bandaged hair? After the corridors are swept, the cuspidors— The gaunt sky-barracks cleanly now, and bare, O Genoese, do you bring mother eyes and hands Back home to children and to golden hair? Daemon, demurring and eventful yawn! Whose hideous laughter is a bellows mirth —Or the muffled slaughter of a day in birth— O cruelly to inoculate the brinking dawn With antennae toward worlds that glow and sink;— To spoon us out more liquid than the dim Locution of the eldest star, and pack The conscience navelled in the plunging wind, Umbilical to call—and straightway die! O caught like pennies beneath soot and steam, Kiss of our agony thou gatherest; Condensed, thou takest all—shrill ganglia Impassioned with some song we fail to keep. And yet, like Lazarus, to feel the slope, The sod and billow breaking,—lifting ground, —A sound of waters bending astride the sky Unceasing with some Word that will not die...! A tugboat, wheezing wreaths of steam, Lunged past, with one galvanic blare stove up the River. I counted the echoes assembling, one after one, Searching, thumbing the midnight on the piers. Lights, coasting, left the oily tympanum of waters; The blackness somewhere gouged glass on a sky. And this thy harbor, O my City, I have driven under, Tossed from the coil of ticking towers.... Tomorrow, And to be.... Hereby the River that is East— Here at the waters’ edge the hands drop memory; Shadowless in that abyss they unaccounting lie. How far away the star has pooled the sea— Or shall the hands be drawn away, to die? boat city urban exhaust sound night river Kiss of our agony Thou gatherest, O Hand of Fire gatherest— +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Frost, Robert Genre Poetry Journal or Book New Hampshire Publisher Henry Holt Year of Publication 1923 Pages 110-111 Additional information - It snowed in spring on earth so dry and warm The flakes could find no landing place to form. Hordes spent themselves to make it wet and cold, And still they failed of any lasting hold. They made no white impression on the black. They disappeared as if earth sent them back. Not till from separate flakes they changed at night To almost strips and tapes of ragged white Did grass and garden ground confess it snowed, And all go back to winter but the road. Next day the scene was piled and puffed and dead. The grass lay flattened under one great tread. Borne down until the end almost took root, The rangey bough anticipated fruit With snowballs cupped in every opening bud. The road alone maintained itself in mud, Whatever its secret was of greater heat From inward fires or brush of passing feet. infrastructure plant snow temperature mud personification road scenery spring weather In spring more mortal singers than belong To any one place cover us with song. Thrush, bluebird, blackbird, sparrow, and robin throng; Some to go further north to Hudson's Bay, Some that have come too far north back away, Really a very few to build and stay. Now was seen how these liked belated snow. The fields had nowhere left for them to go; They'd soon exhausted all there was in flying; The trees they'd had enough of with once trying And setting off their heavy powder load. They could find nothing open but the road. So there they let their lives be narrowed in By thousands the bad weather made akin. The road became a channel running flocks Of glossy birds like ripples over rocks. I drove them under foot in bits of flight That kept the ground, almost disputing right Of way with me from apathy of wing, A talking twitter all they had to sing. A few I must have driven to despair Made quick asides, but having done in air A whir among white branches great and small As in some too much carven marble hall Where one false wing beat would have brought down all, Came tamely back in front of me, the Drover, To suffer the same driven nightmare over. One such storm in a lifetime couldn't teach them That back behind pursuit it couldn't reach them; None flew behind me to be left alone. animal affect risk safety driver driving skill metaphor spring tree weather Well, something for a snowstorm to have shown The country's singing strength thus brought together, That though repressed and moody with the weather Was none the less there ready to be freed And sing the wildflowers up from root and seed. weathert and seed. weather +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Hughes, Langston Genre Poetry Journal or Book Langston Hughes: Poems Publisher Alfred A. Knopf Inc. Year of Publication 1927 Pages 68 Additional information - Albert! Hey, Albert! Don't you play in dat road. You see dem trucks A-goin' by. One run ovah you An' you die. Albert, don't you play in dat road. trucks traffic risk road. trucks traffic risk road +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Huntington, Julia Weld Genre Poetry Journal or Book Poetry Magazine Publisher - Year of Publication 1921 Pages 81 Additional information - infrastructure roadside Lilacs lift leaves of cool satin And blossoms of mother-of-pearl Against the tarnished silver of the deserted house. Tall, exquisite grasses fill the door-yard with spray. Through the sun-drenched fragrance drifts the hazy monotone of bees. Tints of opal and jade; the hush of emerald shadows, And a sense of the past as a living presence Distil a haunting wistful peace. plant animal sunshineeace. plant animal sunshine +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Jamison, Roscoe C. Genre Poetry Journal or Book Negro Soldiers (“These Truly are the Brave”) and other poems by Roscoe C. Jamison Publisher Press of the Gray Printing Company Year of Publication 1918 Pages - Additional information - metaphor metaphysics Along the Road of Human Life, So very near, on either side, With winds and storms and billows rife, There is a sea that's wide; And woe to him who trips and falls Into that darkening tide. road Oh! it is all that Hope can do To keep lifted our eyes And day by day our strength renew With visions and dream-lies; To lead us by that awful flood From which no soul may rise. Despair! Despair! That is the sea Which ever is at our feet, Seeks to envelop you and me, In ruin full, complete, Cause us to deem this life a curse And make death's name sound sweet. Work, Laugh and Love! Thus only can The trembling spirit hold, Its journey true across the span Of years that doth unfold, Amid earth's barren scenery Until life's tale is told!ry Until life's tale is told! +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Johnson, Helene Genre Poetry Journal or Book Opportunity: A Journal of Negro Life Publisher - Year of Publication 1926 Pages 225 Additional information - Ah, little road all whirry in the breeze, A leaping clay hill lost among the trees, The bleeding note of rapture streaming thrush Caught in a drowsy hush And stretched out in a single singing line of dusky song. road wind tree topography Ah little road, brown as my race is brown, Your trodden beauty like our trodden pride, Dust of the dust, they must not bruise you down. Rise to one brimming golden, spilling cry! dust road African American dust road African American +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Lowell, Amy Genre Poetry Journal or Book A Dome of Many-Colored Glass Publisher Houghton Mifflin Company Year of Publication 1922 Pages 53 Additional information - ode I know a country laced with roads, They join the hills and they span the brooks, They weave like a shuttle between broad fields, And slide discreetly through hidden nooks. They are canopied like a Persian dome And carpeted with orient dyes. They are myriad-voiced, and musical, And scented with happiest memories. O Winding roads that I know so well, Every twist and turn, every hollow and hill! They are set in my heart to a pulsing tune Gay as a honey-bee humming in June. ‘T is the rhythmic beat of a horse's feet And the pattering paws of a sheep-dog bitch; ‘T is the creaking trees, and the singing breeze, And the rustle of leaves in the road-side ditch. road agency personification river hill scenery metaphor music sound smell sublime tree wind summer A cow in a meadow shakes her bell And the notes cut sharp through the autumn air, Each chattering brook bears a fleet of leaves Their cargo the rainbow, and just now where The sun splashed bright on the road ahead A startled rabbit quivered and fled. O Uphill roads and roads that dip down! You curl your sun-spattered length along, And your march is beaten into a song By the softly ringing hoofs of a horse And the panting breath of the dogs I love. The pageant of Autumn follows its course And the blue sky of Autumn laughs above. animal sky sound music fall road sky sunshine topography And the song and the country become as one, I see it as music, I hear it as light; Prismatic and shimmering, trembling to tone, The land of desire, my soul's delight. And always it beats in my listening ears With the gentle thud of a horse's stride, With the swift-falling steps of many dogs, Following, following at my side. O Roads that journey to fairyland! Radiant highways whose vistas gleam, Leading me on, under crimson leaves, To the opaline gates of the Castles of Dream. music pleasure affect sound animal road highway sound animal road highway +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author MacKaye, Percy Genre Poetry Journal or Book Scribner’s Magazine Publisher - Year of Publication 1910 Pages 114 Additional information - Fluid the world flowed under us: the hills, Billow on billow of umbrageous green, Heaved us, aghast, to fresh horizons, seen One rapturous instant, blind with dash of rills And silver rising storms and dewy stills Of dripping boulders, then the dim ravine Drowned us again in leafage, whose serene Coverts grew loud with our tumultuous wills. pleasure topography sound metaphor Then all of nature’s old amazement Sudden to ask us: "Is this also Man? This plunging, volant land-amphibian— What Plato mused and Paracelsus dreamed? Reply!" And piercing us with ancient scan, The shrill primeval hawk gazed and screamed. intertext sound animalintertext sound animal +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author MacNeice, Louis Genre Poetry Journal or Book The Faber Book of Modern Verse Publisher Faber and Faber Year of Publication 1923 Pages 304 Additional information - Down the road someone is practising scales, The notes like little fishes vanish with a wink of tails, Man’s heart expands to tinker with his car For this is Sunday morning, Fate’s great bazaar, Regard these means as ends, concentrate on this Now, And you may grow to music or drive beyond Hindhead anyhow, Take corners on two wheels until you go so fast That you can clutch a fringe or two of the windy past, That you can abstract this day and make it to the week of time A small eternity, a sonnet self-contained in rhyme. pleasure speed maintenance car part road But listen, up the road, something gulps, the church spire Opens its eight bells out, skulls’ mouths which will not tire To tell how there is no music or movement which secures Escape from the weekday time. Which deadens and endures. architecture music sound metaphor haptic death metaphor haptic death +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author McKay, Claude Genre Poetry Journal or Book Constab Ballads Publisher London Watts & Co. Year of Publication 1912 Pages 40-42 Additional information - When you want to meet a frien', Ride up to Papine, Where dere's people to no en', Old, young, fat an' lean: When you want nice gals fe court An' to feel jus' booze', Go'p to Papine as a sport Dress' in ge'man clo'es. When you want to be jus' broke, Ride up wid your chum, Buy de best cigars to smoke An' Finzi old rum: Stagger roun' de sort o' square On to Fong Kin bar ; Keep as much strengt' dat can bear You do'n in de car. car When you want know Sunday bright, Tek a run up deh When 'bout eight o'clock at night Things are extra gay : Ef you want to see it cram', Wait tell night is dark, An' beneat' your breat' you'll damn Coney Island Park. night When you want see gals look fine, You mus' go up dere, An' you'll see them drinkin' wine An' all sorts o' beer : There you'll see them walkin' out, Each wid a young man, Watch them strollin' all about, Flirtin' all dem can. When you want hear coarsest jokes Passin' rude an' vile, Want to see de Kingston blokes,— Go up dere awhile: When you want hear murderin' On de piano, An' all sorts o' drunken din, Papine you mus' go. Ef you want lost póliceman, Go dere Sunday night, Where you'll see them, every one Lookin' smart an' bright : Policeman of every rank, Rural ones an' all, In de bar or on de bank, Each one in them sall. Policeman dat's in his beat, Policeman widout, Policeman wid him gold teet' Shinin' in him mout'; Policeman in uniform Made of English blue, P'liceman gettin' rather warm, Sleuth policeman too. Policeman on plain clo'es pass, Also dismissed ones; See them standin' in a mass, Talkin' 'bout them plans: Policeman "struck off de strengt' Physical unfit," Hear them chattin' dere at lengt' 'Bout a diffran' kit. When you want meet a surprise, Tek de Papine track; Dere some things will meet you' eyes Mek you tu'n you' bac: When you want to see mankind Of "class "family In a way degra' them mind, Go 'p deh, you will see. When you want a pleasant drive, Tek Hope Gardens line; I can tell you, man alive, It is jolly fine: Ef you want to feel de fun, You mus' only wait Until when you're comin' do'n An' de tram is late. road condition affect trainaffect train +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author McKay, Claude Genre Poetry Journal or Book Harlem Shadows: The Poems of Claude McKay Publisher Harcourt , Brace and Company Year of Publication 1922 Pages 43 Additional information - The Dawn! The Dawn! The crimson-tinted, comes Out of the low still skies, over the hills, Manhattan's roofs and spires and cheerless domes! The Dawn! My spirit to its spirit thrills. Almost the mighty city is asleep, No pushing crowd, no tramping, tramping feet. But here and there a few cars groaning creep Along, above, and underneath the street, Bearing their strangely-ghostly burdens by, The women and the men of garish nights, Their eyes wine-weakened and their clothes awry, Grotesques beneath the strong electric lights. The shadows wane. The Dawn comes to New York. And I go darkly-rebel to my work. city urban car metaphor sound personificationcar metaphor sound personification +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author McKay, Claude Genre Poetry Journal or Book Harlem Shadows: The Poems of Claude McKay Publisher Harcourt , Brace and Company Year of Publication 1922 Pages 55 Additional information - No engines shrieking rescue storm the night, And hose and hydrant cannot here avail; The flames laugh high and fling their challenging light, And clouds turn gray and black from silver-pale. The fire leaps out and licks the ancient walls, And the big building bends and twists and groans. A bar drops from its place; a rafter falls Burning the flowers. The wind in frenzy moans. The watchers gaze, held wondering by the fire, The dwellers cry their sorrow to the crowd, The flames beyond themselves rise higher, higher, To lose their glory in the frowning cloud, Yielding at length the last reluctant breath. And where life lay asleep broods darkly death. engine night deathy death. engine night death +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author McKay, Claude Genre Poetry Journal or Book Spring in New Hampshire and Other Poems Publisher Grant Richards Ltd Year of Publication 1920 Pages 18 Additional information - About me young and careless feet Linger along the garish street; Above, a hundred shouting signs Shed down their bright fantastic glow Upon the merry crowd and lines Of moving carriages below: O wonderful is Broadway—only My heart, my heart is lonely. urban Desire naked, linked with Passion, Goes strutting by in brazen fashion; From playhouse, cabaret and inn The rainbow lights of Broadway blaze All gay without, all glad within; As in a dream I stand and gaze At Broadway, shining Broadway—only My heart, my heart is lonely. urban is lonely. urban +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Moore, Marianne Genre Poetry Journal or Book Observations Publisher - Year of Publication 1924 Pages - Additional information - They answer one’s questions, a deal table compact with the wall; in this dried bone of arrangement one’s “natural promptness” is compressed, not crowded out; one’s style is not lost in such simplicity. The palace furniture, so old-fashioned, so old-fashionable; Sèvres china and the fireplace dogs— bronze dromios with pointed ears, as obsolete as pugs; one has one’s preferences in the matter of bad furniture, and this is not one’s choice, The vast indestructible necropolis of composite Yawman-Erbe separable units; the steel, the oak, the glass, the Poor Richard publications containing the public secrets of efficiency on paper so thin that “one thousand four hundred and twenty pages make one inch,” exclaiming, so to speak, When you take my time, you take something I had meant to use; the highway hid by fir trees in rhododendron twenty feet deep, the peacocks, hand-forged gates, old Persian velvet, roses outlined in pale black on an ivory ground, the pierced iron shadows of the cedars, Chinese carved glass, old Waterford, lettered ladies; landscape gardening twisted into permanence; highway infrastructure plant tree garden straight lines over such great distances as one finds in Utah or in Texas, where people do not have to be told that a good brake is as important as a good motor; where by means of extra sense-cells in the skin they can, like trout, smell what is coming— those cool sirs with the explicit sensory apparatus of common sense, who know the exact distance between two points as the crow flies; there is something attractive about a mind that moves in a straight line— the municipal bat roost of mosquito warfare; the American string quartet; these are questions more than answers, road car part car haptic smell sense and Bluebeard’s Tower above the coral reefs, the magic mousetrap closing on all points of the compass, capping like petrified surf the furious azure of the bay, where there is no dust, and life is like a lemon leaf, a green piece of tough translucent parchment, where the crimson, the copper, and the Chinese vermilion of the poincianas set fire to the masonry and turquoise blues refute the clock; this dungeon with odd notions of hospitality, with its “chessmen carved out of moonstones,” its mockingbirds, fringed lilies, and hibiscus, its black butterflies with blue half circles on their wings, tan goats with onyx ears, its lizards glittering and without thickness, like splashes of fire and silver on the pierced turquoise of the lattices and the acacia-like lady shivering at the touch of a hand, lost in a small collision of the orchids— dyed quicksilver let fall to disappear like an obedient chameleon in fifty shades of mauve and amethyst. Here where the mind of this establishment has come to the conclusion that it would be impossible to revolve about oneself too much, sophistication has, “like an escalator,” “cut the nerve of progress.” technology In these noncommittal, personal-impersonal expressions of appearance, the eye knows what to skip; the physiognomy of conduct must not reveal the skeleton; “a setting must not have the air of being one,” yet with X-ray-like inquisitive intensity upon it, the surfaces go back; the interfering fringes of expression are but a stain on what stands out, there is neither up nor down to it; we see the exterior and the fundamental structure— captains of armies, cooks, carpenters, cutlers, gamesters, surgeons and armorers, lapidaries, silkmen, glovers, fiddlers and ballad singers, sextons of churches, dyers of black cloth, hostlers and chimney-sweeps, queens, countesses, ladies, emperors, travelers and mariners, dukes, princes and gentlemen, in their respective places— camps, forges and battlefields, conventions, oratories and wardrobes, dens, deserts, railway stations, asylums and places where engines are made, shops, prisons, brickyards and altars of churches— in magnificent places clean and decent, castles, palaces, dining halls, theaters and imperial audience chambers. technology factory infrastructure engine car part +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Newsome, Mary Effie Lee Genre Poetry Journal or Book Golden Slippers: An Anthology of Negro Poetry for Young Readers Publisher Harper & Row Year of Publication 1927 Pages 26 Additional information - The baker's boy delivers loaves All up and down our street. His car is white, his clothes are white, White to his very feet. I wonder if he stays that way. I don't see how he does all day. I’d like to watch him going home When all the loaves are out. His clothes must look quite different then, At least I have no doubt. car road whitenessdoubt. car road whiteness +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Oppenheim, James Genre Poetry Journal or Book Songs for the New Age Publisher The Century Co. Year of Publication 1914 Pages 115-116 Additional information - Starless and still... Who stopped this heart? Who bound this city in a trance? With open eyes the sleeping houses stare at the Park: And among nude boughs the slumbering hanging moons are gazing: And somnambulant drops of melting snow glide from the roofs and patter on the pave... I in a dream draw the echoes of my footfall silvery sharp... Sleep-walking city! Who are the wide-eyed prowlers in the night? What nightmare-ridden cars move through their own far thunder? What living death of the wind rises, crackling the drowsy twigs? urban car personification sound In the enchantment of the ebb of life, In the miracle of millions stretched in their rooms unconscious and breathing, In the sleep of the broadcast people, In the multitude of dreams rising from the houses, I pause, frozen in a spell. We sleep in the eternal arms of night: We give ourselves, in the heart of peril, To sheer unconsciousness: Silently sliding through space, the huge globe turns. I cannot go: I dream that behind a window one wakes, a woman: She is thinking of me.ne wakes, a woman: She is thinking of me. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Oppenheim, James Genre Poetry Journal or Book Songs for the New Age Publisher The Century Co. Year of Publication 1914 Pages 39-40 Additional information - Neither from the woe, Nor from the war, Think ye to escape... It helps nothing that ye shut your eyes, oh, cloistered cowards and gilded idlers! For neither shall cushion nor buffet ease the sharp shock of life, Neither shall delicate music in hushed hotels drown out the roar of the battling streets . . . Neither shall wingéd wheels carry you away to the place of peace . . . How can ye go from yourselves, deluded ones? affect car part road sound metaphor Make but a world of rest: Swifter than striking lightning The Aladdin of the soul builds in the heart A world of unresting hell... And, oh ye shunners of war, ye are gruelled in a war of the spirit, In a battle of nerves and blood-vessels and the ghost- haunted brain, And the death of delight... Hence, whip ye to battle: Live ye to the uttermost: Abide the adventure.he uttermost: Abide the adventure. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Oppenheim, James Genre Poetry Journal or Book Songs for the New Age Publisher The Century Co. Year of Publication 1914 Pages 83-84 Additional information - You and I in the night, spied on by stars... You and I in the belovéd night... You and I within these walls. A breath from the sea is kissing the housetops of the city, Kissing the roofs, And dying into silence. Earth and stars are in a trance, They dream of passion, but cannot break their sleep. They pass into us, and we are their passion, we are their madness, So shaped that we can kiss and clasp... One kiss, then death, the miracle being spent. Watchman, what of the night? Sleep and birth! Toil and death! Now the light of the topmost tower winks red and ceases: Now the lonely car echoes afar off... Helen looked over the wine-dark seas of Greece, and she was young. But not younger than we, touching each other, while dawn delays... car sound night intertext Dare we betray this moment? Dare we die, missing this fire? Whither goes massive Earth tonight, flying with the stars down eternity? We are alive: we are for each other.e are alive: we are for each other. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Reynolds, Elsbery Washington Genre Poetry Journal or Book AutoLine o'Type Publisher The Book Supply Company Year of Publication 1924 Pages 104 Additional information - Every man from day to day Should save a portion of his pay. If what you save is only small, Still it’s more than none at all. There’s not a man who doesn’t know, To pay is better as you go. You'll find if you do not keep up, You'll be forever on the jump. It’s not the savings that you make That turn into a rich man’s stake. It’s lessons soundly learned of thrift, That are to you a priceless gift. Do not discouraged ever be Because the end you cannot see. Many possessing the lion’s part, Had to make the poor man’s start. If some investments have not paid, From the savings you have made, The gift for thrift to you He gave, You cannot lose if still you save. The man who says no use at all, Because his pay is only small, Will say the same when multiplied, For saving he has never tried. Just save a five and then a ten, And when you add some more again, You’re bound to make your saving score, Each little makes a little more. A motor car is like a man, Some cannot save and others can, The one of all that saves the most, It’s Studebaker’s right to boast. car car model metaphor pleasure safety —The Car with Character. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Reynolds, Elsbery Washington Genre Poetry Journal or Book AutoLine o'Type Publisher The Book Supply Company Year of Publication 1924 Pages 131-132 Additional information - In years of yore it made us sore, When teacher called our name, And said next Friday afternoon, You’re one that must declaim. Now we were always timid quite, To stand before the school, But declamations once a week, Was teacher’s golden rule. There’s nothing to declaim about, We then did fairly shout. Then teacher said with nasty flout, Keep still or you go out. But teacher loaned us many books, And all she did indorse, And that is how we came to tell The school about the horse. One book had pictures and a tale That sounded very fine, But we could never memorize No more than just a Iine, We then proceeded right away To join a horses’ band, And study horses in their play, And learn them out of hand. We then declaimed to all the school, Don’t take us for a fool, We find the horse is good to work, And bigger than a mule. He has two eyes so very keen, They see when you are coming, In front two feet and two behind, That move when he is running. He has two ears with which he hears, And tail to scare the flies, Sometimes he balks but never talks, By eating he survives. Some are bay and some are gray, And some of color muggy, The big and tall look best of all, In a Studebaker buggy. equipment car model If we again had to declaim And take a teacher’s jars, We'd tell you all about mistakes Of certain motor cars. We’d tell it true in words a few, The car of any maker, Is one we sell, the best for you, And made by Studebaker. car car model —The Car with Character. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Reynolds, Elsbery Washington Genre Poetry Journal or Book AutoLine o'Type Publisher The Book Supply Company Year of Publication 1924 Pages 237 Additional information - Holy, holy, holy, sang the choir, From singing holy seemed to never tire, We were told it was an anthem grand, Sung in churches through the land. car part metaphor Much we’ve heard of Holy Writ, But never heard of singing it, It’s what the preacher talks about, The choir just holy, holy, shout. When the choir the anthem gave, Some we heard about it rave, All that we could understand, Was holy, holy, holy-land. Holy, holy, on they sang, The church with holy, holy, rang, They kept right on to holy sing, We thought a change the proper thing. The tenor holy, holy, holy, said, Until he seemed as nearly dead, Then holy, holy, sang the base, With holiness upon his face. Soprano had a holy time, The alto wasn’t far behind, Each had tried their vocal range, Still, from holy not a change. Through this anthem that we heard, But holy not another word, The song was just a lavish noise, To fill you with a lot of joys. They call this music very fine, Sung by the choir in perfect time, Here’s the music we prefer, A Studebaker engine’s purr. car model engine sound zoomorphism —The Car with Character.acter. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Reynolds, Elsbery Washington Genre Poetry Journal or Book AutoLine o'Type Publisher The Book Supply Company Year of Publication 1924 Pages 24 Additional information - Somebody said it can't be done, Salaries to all and commissions none. We smiled till tears were in our eyes, For can't is a word we do despise. We have done the thing that couldn't be done. Somebody scoffed it can't be done, Seven per cent to every last one. No compound rate or broker's fee, Will send you sure into bankruptcy. We have done the thing that couldn't be done. Somebody sneered it can't be done, Carry your paper for each mother's son. You can't collect, your loss run high, Let broker and banker cut the pie. We have done the thing that couldn't be done. Somebody croaked it can't be done, Service by night without the sun. Expenses great will bring you ruin, We heard them not with all their wooin'. We have done the thing that couldn't be done. Somebody mocked it can't be done, Back with you name the cars that 'ave run. Your profits will in them surely go, The public be d—d so take them low. We have done the thing that couldn't be done. car Somebody gibed it can't be done, This thing and that and the other one. So we took off our coat and defied the whole ring, And we started to sing as we tackled the thing. We have done the thing that couldn't be done. Some people live neath clouds of dread And never see a single star. Happier, they would be, if dead And riding in a Studebaker Car. car model —The Car with Character. —The Car with Character. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Reynolds, Elsbery Washington Genre Poetry Journal or Book AutoLine o'Type Publisher The Book Supply Company Year of Publication 1924 Pages 240 Additional information - sublime technology You may have your blooded speeding horse, We have given him up without remorse. The glory that all the nerves can feel, Is in a Six Studebaker wheel. car car model car part The swift and silent pedal machine, We once considered no wise mean. O’er us its magic has ceased to steal, Since turning a Six Studebaker wheel. car part sound speed The rushing of racing motor boats, Our mind no longer on them dotes. Flying through water has not the appeal, Of a Six Studebaker steering wheel. car part metaphor There is joy in a limited fast express, If a first class ticket you possess. But you'll better enjoy an evening meal, From holding a Six Studebaker wheel. car part Give us the still California night, When the moon is full and shining bright. Then life to us is never so real, If turning a Six Studebaker wheel. car part sky time West With miles of road like polished floor, At sixty per and sometimes more, We glide with ease mid laughters peal, Safe at a Six Studebaker wheel. car part infrastructure pleasure road safety speed Like a panther leaping through the air, With plenty of power and some to spare, For a Six Studebaker more of zeal, You'll have when once you turn the wheel. car model car part metaphor We'll warrant your mind will quickly fill With thoughts for a Six so full of thrill. To drive the ideal Six Automobile, Get back of a Six Studebaker wheel. affect car car model car part metaphor —The Car with Character. —The Car with Character. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Reynolds, Elsbery Washington Genre Poetry Journal or Book AutoLine o'Type Publisher The Book Supply Company Year of Publication 1924 Pages 25 Additional information - nostalgia Nothing can make our heart so warm, As visions of where we first were born, As the memory of that first Christmas tree, Where the old homestead used to be. The smile and song and the merry laughter, That rang from the cellar clear to the rafter, Each loved one's face we yet can see, Where the old homestead used to be. The fires were burning the coals were glowing, From all of our hearts affection was flowing, In honor of Him was our Christmas tree, Where the old homestead used to be. Pictures of those long passed away, Hung on the walls and watched our play, They shared with us in all our glee, Where the old homestead used to be. Those hearts of the long ago we treasure, In the memory with unstinted measure, All gathered around that Christmas tree, Where the old homestead used to be. The beauty that gathered in that dominion, Was though it had dropped from angel pinion, For the birth of Him who made us free, Where the old homestead used to be. The place to us was one of splendor, And cherished yet in our memory tender, And the glory of that first Christmas tree, Where the old homestead used to be. Some day again we will see the place, And, too, in our memory each one's face, In a Six Studebaker so easy and free, Where the old homestead used to be. car model —The Car with Character. —The Car with Character. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Reynolds, Elsbery Washington Genre Poetry Journal or Book AutoLine o'Type Publisher The Book Supply Company Year of Publication 1924 Pages 38 Additional information - religion We know a good old Missouri town, Where "niggers" a-plenty live all around. On a little hill down near the mill, The "nigger" church is standing still. When we were there some years ago, This church each night gave quite a show. To enter the house we had to strive, For the building was packed to all revive. The snow outside the church was deep, Inside were shouts while some did weep. The preacher's voice above the din, Proclaimed to all their awful sin. He said, "I's read de Good Book thro', I's fahmiliar with all de ol' an' new. Now you's all bette' believe in dis story, If you's a gonna get yo' a home in glory." Just then a gal, big, black and tall, Shouted, "Fo' de story I sho' does fall. With de dev'l I's fightin' both day an' night, But with yo' story I's winnin' de fight." The preacher replied, "My siste' host, You's get on de side o' de Holy Ghost. He'll look down deep in yo' po' ol' heart, You'll sho' beat de dev'l if yo' do yo' part." "lf yo' read de Book fo' to get yo' light, Yo' can dodge de ol' dev'l an' keep out o' sight. Jus' read fo' to keep from makin' colleesions, 'Bout Paul with his 'pistle after the 'Phesians." "If yo' faith go to shakin' an' yo' go to slippin', Jus' read de Good Book without no skippin', De dev'l am swif', but yo' stick to yo' Maker, Yo' can beat him to glory in de Six Studebaker." car model —The Car with Character. —The Car with Character. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Reynolds, Elsbery Washington Genre Poetry Journal or Book AutoLine o'Type Publisher The Book Supply Company Year of Publication 1924 Pages 40 Additional information - If you are inclined to lament and say, There are no opportunities found today, With the rest of the world you're out of step, Your body and mind are short on pep. Opportunities once flew thick and fast, In years far in the distant past, You'll know they are here today, instead, If you read the lives of men that are dead. Read Abraham Lincoln, American, Enshrined in the heart of every man. He was born honest in humble obscurity, He made for himself his opportunity. To the White House and the President's chair, No American boy need have despair, There is nothing a boy can't overcome, With talent and energy making the run. Read Horace Greeley, in poverty born, His name does history's page adorn, Benjamin Franklin's life and deeds, Give inspiration for youthful needs. John Jacob Astor started poor, He peddled goods from door to door, Thomas Edison of our present day, Has traveled far along the way. These men did not lament and say, No opportunities are there today, By grit and ambition, pluck and skill, They made opportunity through, "I Will." Today is the golden day of days, Opportunity all around you plays, Much depends that you keep on a-trying, If you climb like Studebakers people are buying. car model —The Car with Character. —The Car with Character. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Reynolds, Elsbery Washington Genre Poetry Journal or Book AutoLine o'Type Publisher The Book Supply Company Year of Publication 1924 Pages 55 Additional information - It’s known to all to be the law, That interest should you wish to draw, On something that you have within, You first must put that something in. For you, your business does not pay, And you lament from day to day, You have not to your business given, That from which pay is deriven. Your goose it lays a golden egg, Marks up your interest just a peg, But feed, you must, your goose of old, If you would get your egg of gold. If interest in your church has died, It doesn’t revive although you’ve tried, Just ask yourself and look within To see what you are putting in. If your home is not going right, You stay out late most every night, You have no longer interest there, You’ve no investment worth the care. If you have brothers in your lodge, You now quite often try to dodge, Then your interest’s growing slim, You must put in if you would win. All through life as taught by Him, If you take out you must put in, It’s things you do for all about, You take your biggest interest out. With motor cars it’s just the same, What’s been put in comes out again. Now you can make your own deduction, From the Studebakers’ big production. car car model metaphor technology —The Car wih Character. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Reynolds, Elsbery Washington Genre Poetry Journal or Book AutoLine o'Type Publisher The Book Supply Company Year of Publication 1924 Pages 60-61 Additional information - We've always tried in every way To do our level best. We're guided by our better half In everything but rest. She says our light and humor lines Is not the stuff that mingles, If we would all men have them read, We must cut out the jingles. Our case we tried to argue And said you understand, To write each day as one would pray Is not at our command. Like other men we claim to be, With but a single mind, And what suits us will suit them, too, And other human kind. Every word of that I grant, She said without a pant. It fills your space from day to day If that’s your only slant. But you have cars and other things, That you have got to sell, Or else your space will be to let, And that you know, full well. car Another tack we took and tried To argue once again. Ver-sa-tile we did advance, Was like the sun and rain. But all we said with accent true, Rebounded in our face, We were left both deaf and dumb, We fell out of the race. We've tried it once, we’ve tried it twice, We've tried it many times. To argue with our better half, It’s cost us lots of dimes. A woman set, is hard to get, In threes or twos or singles. Her word was last, she said it fast, You'd best cut out the jingles. Taken from life—The “Ad” writer’s life. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Reynolds, Elsbery Washington Genre Poetry Journal or Book AutoLine o'Type Publisher The Book Supply Company Year of Publication 1924 Pages 75 Additional information - efficiency Fortune comes through diligence and skill, There is always a way where there is a will, Industry of hand as well as of brain, Makes everything easy that’s worthy of gain. Our labor should always be well directed, No slighting for cause to be rejected. Genius may all great works begin, Labor’s the thing that makes them win. This rule is good for most every man, The more we do, the more we can. More busy we are, more leisure we have, For play to serve as our safety valve. The mind of man has been so made, That happiness in him will quickly fade, If slothful habits he does acquire, And industry is not his chief desire. Industry will our talents improve, Deficiencies from our abilities remove. With energies noble it is in accord, It brings to all its highest reward. Industry travels the road with joy, Duty is also along to convoy. There is no possible way to progress, If we no love for labor possess. The bread we earn by sweat of the brow, Is bread most blessed we must allow. It is far sweeter may all confess Than the tasteless loaf of idleness. As long as one lives and stirs all around, There’s food and dress for him to be found. Industry is said to be a health maker, We find it in selling the Six Studebaker. car model —The Car with Character.ar with Character. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Sandburg, Carl Genre Poetry Journal or Book Chicago Poems Publisher Henry Holt and Company Year of Publication 1916 Pages 52 Additional information - Riding against the east, A veering, steady shadow Purrs the motor-call Of the man-bird Ready with the death-laughter In his throat And in his heart always The love of the big blue beyond. driving personification zoomorphism sound Only a man, A far fleck of shadow on the east Sitting at ease With his hands on a wheel And around him the large gray wings. Hold him, great soft wings, Keep and deal kindly, O wings, With the cool, calm shadow at the wheel. car part drivert the wheel. car part driver +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Sandburg, Carl Genre Poetry Journal or Book Chicago Poems Publisher Henry Holt and Company Year of Publication 1916 Pages 99 Additional information - I shall foot it Down the roadway in the dusk, Where shapes of hunger wander And the fugitives of pain go by. I shall foot it In the silence of the morning, See the night slur into dawn, Hear the slow great winds arise Where tall trees flank the way And shoulder toward the sky. metaphor pedestrian road sound sky tree wind The broken boulders by the road Shall not commemorate my ruin. Regret shall be the gravel under foot. I shall watch for Slim birds swift of wing That go where wind and ranks of thunder Drive the wild processionals of rain. metaphor roadside scenery animal wind rain The dust of the traveled road Shall touch my hands and face. road road condition duste. road road condition dust +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Sandburg, Carl Genre Poetry Journal or Book Smoke and Steel Publisher Harcourt , Brace and Howe Year of Publication 1920 Pages 41 Additional information - New neighbors came to the corner house at Congress and Green streets. The look of their clean white curtains was the same as the rim of a nun's bonnet. One way was an oyster pail factory, one way they made candy, one way paper boxes, strawboard cartons. The warehouse trucks shook the dust of the ways loose and the wheels whirled dust—there was dust of hoof and wagon wheel and rubber tire— dust of police and fire wagons—dust of the winds that circled at midnights and noon listening to no prayers. car truck car part pollution dust "O mother, I know the heart of you," I sang passing the rim of a nun's bonnet—O white curtains—and people clean as the prayers of Jesus here in the faded ramshackle at Congress and Green. 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? car truck car part dust pollution wind sound +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Service, Robert William Genre Poetry Journal or Book Spell of the Yukon and Other Verses Publisher Barse & Hopkins Year of Publication 1907 Pages 59-60 Additional information - One said: Thy life is thine to make or mar, To flicker feebly, or to soar, a star; It lies with thee—the choice is thine, is thine, To hit the ties or drive thy auto-car. car metaphor metaphysics I answered Her: The choice is mine—ah, no! We all were made or marred long, long ago. The parts are written; hear the super wail: "Who is stage-managing this cosmic show?" Blind fools of fate and slaves of circumstance, Life is a fiddler, and we all must dance. From gloom where mocks that will-o'-wisp, Free-will I heard a voice cry: "Say, give us a chance." Chance! Oh, there is no chance! The scene is set. Up with the curtain! Man, the marionette, Resumes his part. The gods will work the wires. They've got it all down fine, you bet, you bet! It's all decreed—the mighty earthquake crash; The countless constellations' wheel and flash; The rise and fall of empires, war's red tide; The composition of your dinner hash. There's no haphazard in this world of ours. Cause and effect are grim, relentless powers. They rule the world. (A king was shot last night; Last night I held the joker and both bowers.) From out the mesh of fate our heads we thrust. We can't do what we would, but what we must. Heredity has got us in a cinch— (Consoling thought when you've been on a "bust.") Hark to the song where spheral voices blend: "There's no beginning, never will be end." It makes us nutty; hang the astral chimes! The table's spread; come, let us dine, my friend.et us dine, my friend. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Stoner, Dayton Genre Non-Fiction Journal or Book Science Publisher - Year of Publication 1925 Pages 56-57 Additional information Here you can find Sam Kean's 2022 article on Dayton Stoner's work. animal death risk We hear and read a good deal of the enormous annual toll of human life due to the mania for speed so generally prevalent among automobile drivers. On this account our city streets and country highways are dangerous places for pedestrians as well as for other and more discreet motorists. Even the widely heralded "dirt roads" of Iowa are tainted with human blood. "As a killer of men, the automobile is more deadly than typhoid fever and runs a close second to influenza. ... Up to August of this year (1924) 9,500 lives were sacrificed, chiefly in preventable accidents." Thus reads a recent account in one of our popular magazines. accident car death driving highway infrastructure risk road speed Not only is the mortality among human beings high, but the death-dealing qualities of the motor car are making serious inroads on our native mammals, birds and other forms of animal life. animal death risk This matter was most forcefully brought to my attention during June and July, 1924, when my wife and I made the journey overland from Iowa City, Iowa, to the Iowa Lakeside Laboratory, on West Lake Okoboji, Iowa, a distance of 316 miles. Parts of two days were occupied in the going journey on June 13 and 14, while approximately the same time was required for the return trip on July 15 and 16. Within a few minutes after we had started from Iowa City and a considerable number of dead animals, apparently casualties from passing motor cars, had been encountered in the road, it occurred to us that an enumeration and actual count of those that we might yet come upon during the remainder of the tour would be of interest. Accordingly, we undertook to do this on both the going and return trip which, although not over the same routes in their entirety, were of exactly the same length. animal car death risk road In this count only freshly killed carcasses of vertebrate animals lying in or immediately at the side of the highway were taken into consideration, and only those forms of whose identity we were certain as we passed along were included. Since we seldom exceeded 25 miles per hour we had ample time to identify the more familiar things. Stops were made for a few of the less common and unusual finds. animal car death driving highway infrastructure risk road road side rural slowness Our route took us through typical Iowa farming communities, for the most part moderately thickly populated and supplied with the usual farm buildings. Prairie, marsh and woodland were also represented as were various types of soil and vegetation supported by them. All these conditions make for a diversity of animal life, and we found it well represented on the highways. animal car infrastructure topography rural About 200 miles of the road were graveled; the remainder was just "plain dirt," most of which had been brought to grade. Of course the surfaced roads permit of greater speed, together with more comfort to the speeder and correspondingly greater danger to human and other lives. gravel risk road speed road surface In general, the greatest number of casualties were encountered on the good stretches of road. By way of illustrating this point it may be noted that on the return journey between the Laboratory and Marshall town, Iowa, a distance of 211 miles, all well graveled, 105 dead animals representing 15 species were counted; of these, 39 were red-headed woodpeckers ( Melanerpes erythrocephalus ). Several other forms that could not be identified in passing were met with. animal death gravel infrastructure Midwest risk rural As will be seen from the appended table the mortality among red-headed woodpeckers is higher than that of any other form observed, and I believe that a combination of circumstances will account for this situation. In the first place, these birds have a propensity for feeding upon insects and waste grain in and along the roads; second, they remain as long as possible before the approaching car, in all probability not being keen discriminators of its speed; and third, they have a slow "get-away," that is, they can not quickly acquire a sufficient velocity to escape the oncoming car and so meet their death. However, I feel certain that a speed of from 35 to 40 miles an hour is necessary in order to catch these birds. Of course this is not true for some other forms such as turtles and snakes which depend upon terrestrial progression and are comparatively slow movers. In most cases all animals, if given a reasonable time to escape, will cause the hurried motorist little if any delay. animal car death infrastructure road speed risk weapon Further comment need not be made upon the various factors entering into the situation here discussed. It will be sufficient to point out that on a summer motor trip of 632 miles over Iowa roads, 29 species of our native and introduced vertebrate animals, representing a total of 225 individuals, were found dead as a result of being crushed by passing automobiles, and that this agency demands recognition as one of the important checks upon the natural increase of many forms of life. Assuming that these conditions prevail over the thousands of miles of improved high ways in this state and throughout the United States the death toll of the motor car becomes still more appalling. animal car death highway infrastructure Midwest road speed risk +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Weeks, Carrie Foote Genre Poetry Journal or Book The Outing Magazine Publisher - Year of Publication 1906 Pages 687 Additional information - A at the start was an Automobile. It answers to motor car, just as you feel. car B is the Brake that gives you control. If the Bubble Breaks you, you're in a Big hole. car part C stands for Cylinder, and your Chauffeur, Who takes many Chances at sixty-five per. car part speed D is the up-to-Date Dealer serene, And the Dance that he leads you about the machine. E is Experience for young and old; We pay dearly for it, and often are sold. F is the Factory where you will find It is Foolish to Fuss, if they're four months behind. G is Garage, and the God, Gasoline, Who Guides all his subjects, yet never is seen. gasoline infrastructure H is H. P., your Heaven and Hell. What pace are you making? The police can tell. law speed I is Ignition, Insurance and Ice. These three you must have on an expert's advice. car part J might stand now for a new Jeremiah, Who foretells disasters by flame, speed, or tire. car part risk speed K stands for all Kinds of cars on the mart. To pick the Kingpin would take cleverest art. car L stands for License, and Lawyer, and Lie— You're in touch with them all when an auto you buy. car law M is the Model you choose with great care, The Map that you follow for roads that aren’t there. car car model road map N is the Number attached to your car, And the Name (not a rose) that proclaims it a star. car law O is the Oil used for food and for drink, By this Ogre, half human, the real missing link. metaphor oil P stands for "Plain Clothes Men" always about. Police you can spot. For the others, watch out. Q is the Quest for a feminine hat, That will stay on the head, and have style, and all that. R stands foe Rules which must be obeyed, And the Races we win,—in our dreams, I'm afraid. law S means the Songs that we sing late at night, As the Search light weaves Shadows, now ghostly, now bright. T is the Tonneau for five, three or two. If a Tack finds your Tire, it’s all up with you. car part U is the Unruly, and also Uncertain. On the manners of autos and maids drop the curtain. car law V is Vibration—in sunshine, in gale, It's with us like goggles, or long auto Veil. W stands for Weight, and all kinds of Wheels. (Not Wheels in your head, or Weight in your heels) car part X is Xcess. Pray keep well in hand, For motor-car maniacs people the land. car risk Y stands for Yearnings to go far and fast. O bright Yellow Moon! we'll reach you at last. affect speed Z is the Zany so puffed up with Zeal, That he thinks he has mastered the automobile. car skill car skill +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Williams, William Carlos Genre Poetry Journal or Book Spring and All Publisher - Year of Publication 1923 Pages - Additional information - In passing with my mind on nothing in the world but the right of way I enjoyed on the road by road law virtue of the law – I saw law an elderly man who smiled and looked away to the north past a house – a woman in blue who was laughing and leaning forward to look up into the man’s half averted face and a boy of eight who was looking at the middle of the man’s belly at a watchchain – The supreme importance of this nameless spectacle sped me by them without a word – speed Why bother where I went? for I went spinning on the driving four wheels of my car along the wet road until car car part road road condition I saw a girl with one leg over the rail of a balconyalcony +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Williams, William Carlos Genre Poetry Journal or Book - Publisher - Year of Publication 1916 Pages - Additional information - At ten A.M. the young housewife moves about in negligee behind the wooden walls of her husband's house. I pass solitary in my car. car driver Then again she comes to the curb to call the ice-man, fish-man, and stands shy, uncorseted, tucking in stray ends of hair, and I compare her to a fallen leaf. road roadside The noiseless wheels of my car rush with a crackling sound over dried leaves as I bow and pass smiling. car car part driver sound speed plantcar car part driver sound speed plant +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Wyatt, Edith Genre Poetry Journal or Book - Publisher - Year of Publication 1915 Pages 157-159 Additional information - In the Santa Clara Valley, far away and far away, Cool-breathed waters dip and dally, linger towards another day— Far and far away—far away. Slow their floating step, but tireless, terraced down the great Plateau. Towards our ways of steam and wireless, silver-paced the brook-beds go. Past the ladder-walled Pueblos, past the orchards, pear and quince, Where the back-locked river’s ebb flows, miles and miles the valley glints, Shining backwards, singing downwards, towards horizons blue and bay. All the roofs the roads ensconce so dream of visions far away— Santa Cruz and Ildefonso, Santa Clara, Santa Fé. Ancient, sacred fears and faiths, ancient, sacred faiths and fears— Some were real, some were wraiths—Indian, Franciscan years, Built the Khivas, swung the bells; while the wind sang plain and free, "Turn your eyes from visioned hells!—look as far as you can see!" In the Santa Clara Valley, far away and far away, Dying dreams divide and dally, crystal-terraced waters sally— Linger towards another day, far and far away—far away. agriculture plant road scenery sublime West As you follow where you find them, up along the high Plateau, In the hollows left behind them Spanish chapels fade below— Shaded court and low corrals. In the vale the goat-herd browses. Hollyhocks are seneschals by the little buff-walled houses. Over grassy swale and alley have you ever seen it so— Up the Santa Clara Valley, riding on the Great Plateau? Past the ladder-walled Pueblos, past the orchards, pear and quince, Where the trenchèd waters’ ebb flows, miles and miles the valley glints, Shining backwards, singing downwards towards horizons blue and bay. All the haunts the bluffs ensconce so breathe of visions far away, As you ride near Ildefonso back again to Santa Fé. Pecos, mellow with the years, tall-walled Taos—who can know Half the storied faiths and fears haunting Green New Mexico? Only from her open places down arroyos blue and bay, One wild grace of many graces dallies towards another day. Where her yellow tufa crumbles, something stars and grasses know, Something true, that crowns and humbles, shimmers from the Great Plateau: Blows where cool-paced waters dally from the stillness of Puyé, Down the Santa Clara Valley through the world from far away— Far and far away—far away. +
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Gender Female Ethnicity/Race Caucasian Nationality American Life span 1874-1925 Texts from Lowell, Amy A South California Forest +
Gender Female Ethnicity/Race Caucasian Nationality American Life span 1884-1933 Texts from Teasdale, Sara May Day +
Gender Female Ethnicity/Race Caucasian Nationality American Life span 1893-1967 Texts from Parker, Dorothy Finis +
Gender Female Ethnicity/Race - Nationality - Life span - Texts from Hersey, Marie Louise Provincetown +
Gender Female Ethnicity/Race - Nationality - Life span - Texts from Huntington, Julia Weld Off the Highway +
Gender Female Ethnicity/Race - Nationality - Life span - Texts from Weeks, Carrie Foote The ABC of the Automobile +
Gender Female Ethnicity/Race - Nationality American Life span - Texts from Trinkle, Florence M. Coast to Coast in a Brush Runabout +
Gender Female Ethnicity/Race - Nationality American Life span 1873-1958 Texts from Wyatt, Edith On the Great Plateau +
Gender Female Ethnicity/Race - Nationality American Life span 1887-1972 Texts from Moore, Marianne People's Surroundings +