The illustration
is nothing to you without the application.
You lack half wit. You crush all the particles down
into close conformity, and then walk back and forth on them.
Sparkling chips of rock
are crushed down to the level of the parent block.
Were not ‘impersonal judment in aesthetic
matters, a metaphysical impossibility,’ you
might fairly achieve
it. As for butterflies, I can hardly conceive
of one’s attending upon you, but to question
the congruence of the complement is vain, if it exists.
End of the poem
15 random poems
- An Epistle Containing the Strange Medical Experience of Kar by Robert Browning
- Kore by Robert Creeley
- Эмиль Верхарн – Я радость бытия принес тебе в подарок
- Владимир Вишневский – Из дневника читателя
- Владимир Маяковский – Стой!.. (РОСТА №416)
- Sweet Colonnade by Vasil Slavov
- Song—Auld Lang Syne by Robert Burns
- A Tombless Epitaph by Samuel Coleridge
- Алексей Плещеев – Есть дни, ни злоба, ни любовь
- Константин Бальмонт – Чудовище с клеймом
- Farewell To Spring poem – Alfred Austin
- The Gardener LXIV: I Spent My Day by Rabindranath Tagore
- Владимир Луговской – Звезда (Я знаю ты любишь меня)
- Labor Pains
- Sea World by Nin Andrews
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
