Property:Has text

This is a property of type Text.

Usage1060

FilterThe <a target="_blank" rel="nofollow noreferrer noopener" class="external text" href="https://www.semantic-mediawiki.org/wiki/Help:Property_page/Filter">search filter</a> allows the inclusion of <a target="_blank" rel="nofollow noreferrer noopener" class="external text" href="https://www.semantic-mediawiki.org/wiki/Help:Query_expressions">query expressions</a> such as <code>~</code> or <code>!</code>. The selected <a target="_blank" rel="nofollow noreferrer noopener" class="external text" href="https://www.semantic-mediawiki.org/wiki/Query_engine">query engine</a> might also support case insensitive matching or other short expressions like:<ul><li><code>in:</code> result should include the term, e.g. '<code>in:Foo</code>'</li></ul><ul><li><code>not:</code> result should to not include the term, e.g. '<code>not:Bar</code>'</li></ul>

Showing 20 pages using this property.

T

The Value of Thrift +

<div class="poem"> 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. </div> +

The Watershed +

<div class="poem"> 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. </div> +

The Watershed +

<div class="poem"> 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. </div> +

The Young Housewife +

<div class="poem"> 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. </div> +

The Young Housewife +

<div class="poem"> The noiseless wheels of my car rush with a crackling sound over dried leaves as I bow and pass smiling. </div> +

The Young Housewife +

<div class="poem"> 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. </div> +

To Beachey +

<div class="poem"> 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. </div> +

To Beachey +

<div class="poem"> 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. </div> +

W

Wars +

<div class="poem"> In the old wars clutches of short swords and jabs into faces with spears. In the new wars long range guns and smashed walls, guns running a spit of metal and men falling in tens and twenties. In the wars to come new silent deaths, new silent hurlers not yet dreamed out in the heads of men. </div> +

Wars +

<div class="poem"> In the old wars kings quarreling and thousands of men following. In the new wars kings quarreling and millions of men following. In the wars to come kings kicked under the dust and millions of men following great causes not yet dreamed out in the heads of men. </div> +

Wars +

<div class="poem"> In the old wars drum of hoofs and the beat of shod feet. In the new wars hum of motors and the tread of rubber tires. In the wars to come silent wheels and whirr of rods not yet dreamed out in the heads of men. </div> +

Washington Square +

<div class="poem"> 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... </div> +

Washington Square +

<div class="poem"> I cannot go: I dream that behind a window one wakes, a woman: She is thinking of me. </div> +

Washington Square +

<div class="poem"> 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. </div> +

Washington Square +

<div class="poem"> 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. </div> +

Washington Square +

<div class="poem"> 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? </div> +

Washington Square +

<div class="poem"> Starless and still... Who stopped this heart? Who bound this city in a trance? </div> +

When Dawn Comes to the City +

<div class="poem"> But I would be on the island of the sea, In the heart of the island of the sea, Where the cocks are crowing, crowing, crowing, And the hens are cackling in the rose-apple tree, Where the old draft-horse is neighing, neighing, neighing Out on the brown dew-silvered lawn, And the tethered cow is lowing, lowing, lowing, And dear old Ned is braying, braying, braying, And the shaggy Nannie goat is calling, calling, calling From her little trampled corner of the long wide lea That stretches to the waters of the hill-stream falling Sheer upon the flat rocks joyously! There, oh there! on the island of the sea There I would be at dawn. </div> +

When Dawn Comes to the City +

<div class="poem"> But I would be on the island of the sea, In the heart of the island of the sea, Where the cocks are crowing, crowing, crowing, And the hens are cackling in the rose-apple tree, Where the old draft-horse is neighing, neighing, neighing Out on the brown dew-silvered lawn, And the tethered cow is lowing, lowing, lowing, And dear old Ned is braying, braying, braying, And the shaggy Nannie goat is calling, calling, calling From her little trampled corner of the long wide lea That stretches to the waters of the hill-stream falling Sheer upon the flat rocks joyously! There, oh there! on the island of the sea There I would be at dawn. </div> +

When Dawn Comes to the City +

<div class="poem"> The tired cars go grumbling by, The moaning, groaning cars, And the old milk carts go rumbling by Under the same dull stars. Out of the tenements, cold as stone, Dark figures start for work; I watch them sadly shuffle on, ‘Tis dawn, dawn in New York. </div> +