English

Dark hills at evening in the west,
Where sunset hovers like a sound
Of golden horns that sang to rest
Old bones of warriors under ground,
Far now from all the bannered ways
Where flash the legions of the sun,
You fade — as if the last of days
Were fading, and all wars were done.

Dark Beauty, childhood dream!
Resistance of the stingy lips —

Do not approach me, but remain
an alluring idea for the future

When you pass, earth awakens
from its heavy slumbering dream

The tiny window of her hope
illuminated by your gleaming smile

Dark Beauty, remain for me
the most remote of pleasures

Remain a longing on my lips,
a wisp of vision in my eyes

Remain elusive, like tomorrow
to which death will beat us all.

Dark an' stormy may come de wedder;
I jines dis he-male an' dis she-male togedder.
Let none, but Him dat makes de thunder,
Put dis he-male an' dis she-male asunder.
I darfore 'nounce you bofe de same.
Be good, go 'long, an' keep up yo' name.
De broomstick's jumped, de worl's not wide.
She's now yo' own. Salute yo' bride!

The dandelion stares
In the yellow sunlight.
How very still it is!
When it is old and grey,
I blow its white hair away,
And leave it with a bald head.

Frankie was a good girl
As everybody knows.
She paid a hundred dollar bill
For a suit of Albert's clothes,
Just because she loved him [so].

Frankie went down to the bar-room;
She called for a bottle of beer;
She whispered to the bartender:
Has Albert he been here?
He is my man and he won't come home. "

" I am not a-going to tell you no story;
I am not a-going to tell you no lie;
He left here about an hour ago
With a girl called Alice Fry;
He is your man and he won't come home. "

Damon forbear, and don't disturb your Muse,
You can't correct the coxcombs you accuse,
Some partial judges of their harmless rage
Out of bravado rashly do engage,
But many pens, like Wortley Montague
Take an affront, and yet beg pardon too.
Others I know, who in their amorous fit,
Blaspheme Parnassus in their bawdy wit.
This aims at satire, and in horrid rhymes
Himself exposes, not the vicious times:
He shows his malice, but he cannot bite;
Others strain hard for ev'ry line they write,

D AMIS , an author cold and weak,
— Thinks as a critic he's divine;
Likely enough; we often make
— Good vinegar of sorry wine.

Dainty fine bird, that art encagid there,
Alas, how like thine and my fortunes are.
Both prisoners be, and both singing thus
Strive to please her, that hath imprisoned us.
Only thus we differ, thou and I,
Thou liv'st singing, but I sing and die.

Daily walked the fair and lovely
Sultan's daughter in the twilight, —
In the twilight by the fountain,
Where the sparkling waters plash.

Daily stood the young slave silent
In the twilight by the fountain,
Where the plashing waters sparkle,
Pale and paler every day.

Once by twilight came the princess
Up to him with rapid questions:
" I would know thy name, thy nation,
Whence thou comest, who thou art. "

And the young slave said, " My name is
Mahomet, I come from Yemmen.

Daffadowndilly
Has come up to town,
In a yellow petticoat
And a green gown.