Classic poem of the day
Good luck to your fishing!
And what have you caught?
Ah, would that my wishing
Were more than a thought!
Ah, would you had caught her,
Young Chloe, for me,—
Young Chloe, the daughter
Of Proteus, the sea!
She irks me, she irks me,
With blue of her eyes;
She irks me, she irks me,
With little drawn sighs;
She lures me with laughter,
She tempts me with tears;
And hope follows after,—
Hope only,—and fears!......
Member poem of the day
Close by ancient wooden doors
and narrow, mud-walled alleyways
you will find
in every hamlet
out to the farthest reaches of rural Afghanistan
monstrous fighting dogs,
stained blonde fur,
red-eyed madness,
alien beasts on strong chains
fastened to improvised anchors
far weaker than you would prefer.
