If Tomorrow Never Comes If I knew it would be the last time that I’d see you fall asleep‚ I would tuck you in more tightly‚ and pray the Lord your soul to keep. If I knew it would be the last time that I’d see you walk out the door‚ I would give you a hug and kiss‚ and call you back for just one more. If I knew it would be the last time I’d hear your voice lifted up in praise‚ I would tape each word and action‚ and play them back throughout my days If I knew it would be the last
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A Tribute to My Town When I remember the days that saw my early childhood spent on the green shores of a murmurous lagoon; when I remember the coolness‚ delicious and refreshing‚ that on my face I felt as I heard Favonius croon; when I behold the white lily swell to the wind’s impulsion‚ and that tempestuous element meekly asleep on the sand; when I inhale the dear intoxicating essence the flowers exude when dawn is smiling on the land; sadly‚ sadly I recall
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Among Elk Up before dawn‚ a feeling has drawn You into the mountain and trees. Till the silence within‚ upon the whispering wind A chime of bugles tease the breeze. That majestic call‚ that is heard each fall Since before our forefathers birth And for those who take time‚ through rim rocks and pine Listen and value their worth. Each note high and low as each bugle ballad goes‚ No two ever the same They are all unique and if a chance to critique Upon our hearts they claim. We are
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The Troll’s Nosegay by Robert Graves A simple nosegay! was that much to ask? (Winter still irked‚ with scarce a bud yet showing). He loved her ill‚ if he resigned the task. “Somewhere‚” she cried‚ “there must be blossom blowing.” It seems my lady wept and the troll swore By Heaven he hated tears: he’d cure her spleen – Where she had begged one flower he’d shower fourscore‚ A bunch fit to amaze a China Queen. Cold fog-drawn Lily‚ pale mist-magic Rose He conjured‚ and in a glassy cauldron
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ABOUT THIS BOOK In most accounts of the revolt‚ the greased cartridge has been referred to as the spark and tinder that lit the flames of rebellion. .The greased cartridge - what was it all about? The army so far had been quipped with the smooth-barrelled musket‚ which had a protracted loading procedure and was not accurate over long ranges. The new Enfield rifles‚ which were now being issued‚ had grooved or rifled barrels. This made them more accurate and gave them a longer range. The powder and
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The lamp at Noon The exposition of the story took place sometime in the 1930’s‚ on the prairie farm somewhere‚ probably in U.S.A ‚ the depression drought called dust Bowl years‚ this situation mad the wife worried about her husband and her baby and their relationship‚ and she doesn’t want to live on the farm anymore. Paul‚ the protagonist‚ is farmer husband who doesn’t want to leave the farm even though he can’t meet his family needs. And his wife Ellen who represents the antagonist‚ she does
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Response to Literature Poem Analysis Writing Guidelines Subject: Poem Form: Analysis Purpose: To explore meaning Audience: Instructor Sample Poem Read the poem below and think about its content‚ theme‚ organization‚ and use of poetic techniques. Then read student writer Stefano Giagregorio’s analysis. I AM THE PEOPLE‚ THE MOB By Carl Sandburg I AM the people--the mob--the crowd--the mass. Do you know that all the great work of the world is done through me? I am the workingman‚
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The Bloody Sunday Massacre in January 30th‚1972 Derry‚ Ireland was the turning point in the Northern Ireland conflict. It marked the point where IRA gained the support of the catholic community allowing them to continue their fight against the british. The Irish saw the attack as an unjust massacre against their people and incited fear and hatred in the Irish people. This anger and fear turned the conflict from mostly peaceful to violent ending all peaceful negotiations. The Bloody Sunday Massacre
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Comparison of Two Poems Why is it that people write poems? Sometimes‚ it seems that authors write poems to confuse or to mislead. As most would know‚ poems aren’t actually written for that purpose. They are written to amuse and enlighten in a critical thinking way. Poems are like secret passages with deep meanings within the lines and rhythms; after being pulled apart and analyzed‚ they can leave your mind blown. I will be comparing “My Papa’s Waltz” by Theodore Roethke with another poem titled “Those
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Sabrina Lugo February 12th 2013 4:30pm I never lived for rainbows or eclipses just because of the conflict of interest for attention between what is brought out most within the spectrums of our personalities. To visually stimulate the brain‚ to object to reality‚ to imperfect the shade that is invisible to the eyes- FEAR OF KNOWING THE TRUTH Intertwining through and through creating emotions and depth to those objects we could not touch‚ we could not bear‚ we could not feel. Who savor the
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