“Because he swings so neatly through the trees,”

&
Because he swings so neatly through the trees,
An ape feels natural in the word trapeze.
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Faustine by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Ave Faustina Imperatrix, morituri te salutant. Lean back, and get some minutes' peace;
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Back to the shoulder with its fleece
Of locks, Faustine.
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from Don Juan: Canto 1, Stanzas 41-42 by Lord Byron (George Gordon)
Lord Byron (George Gordon)
41
His classic studies made a little puzzle,
Because of filthy loves of gods and goddesses,
Who in the earlier ages raised a bustle,
But never put on pantaloons or bodices;
His reverend tutors had at times a tussle,
And for their Aeneids, Iliads, and Odysseys,
Were forced to make an odd sort of apology,
For Donna Inez dreaded the mythology.

42
Ovid's a rake, as half his verses show him,
Anacreon's morals are a still worse sample,
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Hotel François 1er by Gertrude Stein
Gertrude Stein
It was a very little while and they had gone in front of it. It was that they had liked it would it bear. It was a very much adjoined a follower. Flower of an adding where a follower.
Have I come in. Will in suggestion.
They may like hours in catching.
It is always a pleasure to remember.
Have a habit.
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All who live round about there.
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And There Was a Great Calm by Thomas Hardy
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There had been years of Passion—scorching, cold,
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Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood by William Wordsworth
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The child is father of the man;
And I could wish my days to be
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Black Earth by Marianne Moore
Marianne Moore
Openly, yes,
With the naturalness
Of the hippopotamus or the alligator
When it climbs out on the bank to experience the

Sun, I do these
Things which I do, which please
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In view was a
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The Western Emigrant by Lydia Huntley Sigourney
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An axe rang sharply ’mid those forest shades
Which from creation toward the skies had tower’d
In unshorn beauty. There, with vigorous arm
Wrought a bold emigrant, and by his side
His little son, with question and response,
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Speech: Bottom's Dream by William Shakespeare
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Voyages by Hart Crane
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Above the fresh ruffles of the surf
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They have contrived a conquest for shell shucks,
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And When My Sorrow was Born by Kahlil Gibran
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And when my Joy was born, I held it in my arms and stood on the
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And every day for seven moons I proclaimed my Joy from the
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Then my Joy grew pale and weary because no other heart but mine
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Swear by what the Sages spoke
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The Song of Wandering Aengus by William Butler Yeats
William Butler Yeats
I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
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Paradise Lost: Book  8 (1674 version) by John Milton
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THE Angel ended, and in Adams Eare
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(excerpt)

AN ANATOMY OF THE WORLD
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I will tell you what he told me
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as we then called
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PART I
'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock,
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A Valediction of the Book by John Donne
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I’ll tell thee now (dear Love) what thou shalt do
To anger destiny, as she doth us,
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Study our manuscripts, those myriads
Of letters, which have past twixt thee and me,
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Rule and example found;
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