"the clerks’ ball" – 11441 rezultate
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JKJohn Keats
John Keats was born on 31 October 1795 (probably), first child of Thomas Keats and Frances Jennings Keats, who had apparently eloped1. Everything was pretty ordinary for all concerned for a while--the Keatses had three more sons (George and Thomas, plus Edward who died as a baby) and one daughter, Frances, by 1803. That was also the year when John went away to school at Enfield. In 1804, John\'s father was killed in a fall from a horse. Just over two months later, for mysterious reasons, Frances remarried, to a London bank clerk named William Rawlings. Frances quickly decided she\'d made some sort of terrible error and left, taking nothing with her since the laws of the time decreed that all her property and even her children belonged to her husband. Frances\' mother, Alice, swept in and took custody of the children, but she could do nothing about the Swan and Hoop, which Rawlings sold immediately before disappearing. It was around this time that John became prone to fistfights, which...
32 poezii, 0 proze
Robert Browning
Robert Browning was born on May 7, 1812 in Camberwell, which is south of London. His birthday falls within a couple of months of the births of Dickens and Thackeray. He was the eldest of 2 children, born to Robert and Sarah Anna Browning. His father was a bank clerk. He attended London University for a short while in 1828, but received most of his education by readinghis from his father\'s library. His first poem, Pauline, was published when he was 21. It was soon followed by Paracelsus (1835) and Sordello (1840). A year later, Pippa Passes, the first in a series entitled Bells and Pomegranates was published; the remaining seven parts appeared between 1841-46. In 1846, Browning eloped with Elizabeth Barrett and lived with her in Italy until his death in 1861. Various difficulties made the poet\'s requested burial in Florence impossible, and his body was returned to England to be interred in Westminster Abbey. The they left you for their pleasure: till in due time, one by one, Some...
12 poezii, 0 proze
Silvio C. Cantelli
Silvio C. Cantelli EXETER - Silvio C. Cantelli, 80, of 8 Hampton Road, died Friday, March 28, 2003 at SunBridge for Exeter. He was born Feb. 15, 1923 in Boston, the son of the late Carlo and Maria (Giberti) Cantelli. He was raised in Somerville, Mass., where he was a 1944 graduate of Somerville High School. He had resided for many years in Cambridge, Mass., before moving to Exeter in 1999. He worked as a factory clerk for Cambion Inc., a Cambridge electronics manufacturer. Mr. Cantelli is survived by a son, Stephen C. Cantelli of Exeter; a sister, Rena A. Stahlman of Winchester, Mass.; a grandson; a great-granddaughter; and several cousins.
1 poezii, 0 proze
KIKobayashi Issa
Kobayashi Issa (1763-1828) a fost un poet japonez. *** Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827) - original name Kobayashi Nobuyki - Also called Kobayashi Yataro, born in some sources on May 5, 1763 Kobayashi Issa was born in Kashiwabara, Shinano province (now part of Shinano Town, Nagano Prefecture), a son of a farmer. His father was widowed a few years after Issa was born. Issa was looked after by his grandmother until his father remarried. During this period, he started to study haiku under a local poet, Shimpo. Issa's troubles with his stepmother started when she gave birth to a son. Later Issa complainen that he was beaten "a hundred times a day." In 1777, at the age of fourteen, he was sent by his father to Edo (Tokyo today), where he studied haiku under the poets Mizoguchi Sogan and Norokuan Chikua (died 1790). Possibly Issa also worked as a clerk at a Buddhist temple. Issa's works gained the attention Seibi Natsume, who became his patron. Although his poems became more and more known, he was...
2 poezii, 0 proze
the crow
un spectru bantuie Europa
4 poezii, 0 proze
TJThe Rave parties going Jester
nu stiu cum naiba sa scap de contul asta infect
2 poezii, 0 proze
The Shadow
29 poezii, 0 proze
BBBen Ber
16 poezii, 0 proze
Alex Dan
21 de ani,imi place singuratatea,observ si judec, imi place sa ma joc cu realitatea,scriu poezie si proza. Sper sa va placa...
13 poezii, 0 proze
Matei Alexandru Marian
3 poezii, 0 proze
The Winter of Our Discontent
de tea nicolescu
Tea Nicolescu O carte: Mitto”„Words should be wind or water or thunder”(J.S. 1962) „The Winter of Our Discontent” romanul lui John Steinbeck cartea aceea despre care eu cred că poate fi considerată...
Sonnet LXXXV
de William Shakespeare
My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still, While comments of your praise, richly compiled, Reserve their character with golden quill And precious phrase by all the Muses filed. I think good...
the dog
de George Potyng
se auzi: scârț-scârț. am tras mai aproape lanțul. sub picioare era cald. plouă? câinele din ograda vecinului spune că nu. delirez. m-am apropiat de zidul dinspre drum. - juju, juju! delirez? câinele...
The Pasture
de Robert Frost
I\'m going out to clean the pasture spring; I\'ll only stop to rake the leaves away (And wait to watch the clear water, I may): I shan\'t be gone long - You come too. I\'m going out to fetch the...
The Road Not Taken
de Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the...
the end
de iulian cimpoeșu
te-am întâlnit înspre bara tonurilor târzii ale timpului meu erai eroina unui striptease al simțurilor maltratate de-o unică trăire te dezgoleai de tot de mine aruncai veșmintele la second-hand-ul...
The Phœnix and the turtle
de William Shakespeare
Let the bird of loudest lay, On the sole Arabian tree, Herald sad and trumpet be, To whose sound chaste wings obey. But thou shrieking harbinger, Foul precurrer of the fiend, Augur of the fever\'s...
The Muse & The Singer
de Doru Alexandru
[link] e cântul pasilor tai de vină că urma ți-o port pășindu-ți sub umbră sfios am învățat să încetez a cutremura gânduri acum le aștern pe filamente de lumină îngerii de zapadă au cules liniștea la...
The end?
de Mihai Meșter
Mă topesc singur pe tâmplele noastre e un fel de tic nervos mi-ai zis și denaturat m-am tăcut, as usual apoi mi-am vorbit prin tine over and over m-am săturat de voce ce ciudat, azi mâncăm un melc și...
The Dude Bandit
de Adrian Firica
- E greu de presupus că nu ar exista o recompensă a zilelor pe care le trăim. Nu te oprește nimeni și nimic să te gândești la ceva, sau să schimbi câteva vorbe înainte de a adormi. Se cuvenea să...