My Death
My death waits like a maid at night, At the swinging of the scythe, To gather up the time that...
My death waits like a maid at night, At the swinging of the scythe, To gather up the time that...
Dear Collector: We hate you. Sex loses all its power and magic when it becomes explicit,...
I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company...
The essential thing of those fifteen long years of shopkeeping is Mr Polly, well athwart the...