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The Fountain of Blood  by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE

27 November 2006
Vol. 6, No. 3
poetry, translation, rhyme

It seems to me sometimes my blood is bubbling out

As fountains do, in rhythmic sobs; I feel it spout

And lapse; I hear it plainly; it makes a murmuring sound;

But from what wound it wells, so far I have not found.

The Red Shoes  by HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSON

Once upon a time there was little girl, pretty and dainty. But in summer time she was obliged to go barefooted because she was poor, and in winter she had to wear large wooden shoes, so that her little instep grew quite red.

Carmilla  by SHERIDAN LE FANU

31 October 2006
Vol. 6, No. 3
fiction, novella, horror

But I was not comforted, for I knew the visit of the strange woman was not a dream; and I was awfully frightened.

Song of Autumn  by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE

Soon into frozen shades, like leaves, we'll tumble.

Adieu, short summer's blaze, that shone to mock.

The Dream of Little Tuk  by HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSON

Yes, they called him Little Tuk, but it was not his real name; he had called himself so before he could speak plainly, and he meant it for Charles. It was all very well for those who knew him, but not for strangers.

A Word for Autumn  by A. A. MILNE

30 September 2006
Vol. 6, No. 3
nonfiction

I knew all along that it would not last. Even in April I was saying that winter would soon be here. Yet somehow it had begun to seem possible lately that a miracle might happen, that summer might drift on and on through the months – a final upheaval to crown a wonderful year.

A Memory  by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE

25 September 2006
Vol. 6, No. 3
poetry, elegy, translation, rhyme

All this was long ago, but I do not forget

Our small white house, between the city and the farms;

Lethe  by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE

14 September 2006
Vol. 6, No. 3
poetry, translation, rhyme

Rest on my heart, deaf, cruel soul, adored

Tigress, and monster with the lazy air.

I long, in the black jungles of your hair,

To force each finger thrilling like a sword…

To the Reader  by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE

13 September 2006
Vol. 6, No. 3
poetry, translation, rhyme

Among the vermin, jackals, panthers, lice,

gorillas and tarantulas that suck

and snatch and scratch and defecate and fuck

in the disorderly circus of our vice,


there's one more ugly and abortive birth.

The Steadfast Tin Soldier  by HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSON

Each man shouldered his gun, kept his eyes well to the front, and wore the smartest red and blue uniform imaginable. The first thing they heard in their new world, when the lid was taken off the box, was a little boy clapping his hands and crying, "Soldiers, soldiers!"

Truth of Intercourse  by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

14 August 2006
Vol. 6, No. 2
nonfiction, essay

Among sayings that have a currency in spite of being wholly false upon the face of them for the sake of a half-truth upon another subject which is accidentally combined with error, one of the grossest and broadest conveys the monstrous proposition that it is easy to tell the truth and hard to tell a lie. I wish heartily it were.

The Furnished Room  by O. HENRY

Restless, shifting, fugacious as time itself is a certain vast bulk of the population of the red brick district of the lower West Side. Homeless, they have a hundred homes.

Ode on Melancholy  by JOHN KEATS

20 July 2006
Vol. 6, No. 2
poetry

No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist

  Wolfs-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;

Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd

  By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine…

Ode to Pysche  by JOHN KEATS

19 July 2006
Vol. 6, No. 2
poetry

O Goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung

  By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear,

And pardon that thy secrets should be sung

  Even into thine own soft-conched ear…

The Gift of the Magi  by O. HENRY

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents.

The Last Leaf  by O. HENRY

In a little district west of Washington Square the streets have run crazy and broken themselves into small strips called "places." These "places" make strange angles and curves. One Street crosses itself a time or two.

When I have fears that I may cease to be  by JOHN KEATS

15 June 2006
Vol. 6, No. 2
poetry, sonnet, rhyme

When I have fears that I may cease to be

Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,

Before high-pilèd books, in charact'ry

Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain…

The Human Seasons  by JOHN KEATS

14 June 2006
Vol. 6, No. 2
poetry, sonnet, rhyme

Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;

There are four seasons in the mind of man:—

He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear

Takes in all beauty with an easy span…

Bright Star! would I were steadfast as thou art—  by JOHN KEATS

13 June 2006
Vol. 6, No. 2
poetry, sonnet, rhyme

Bright Star! would I were steadfast as thou art—

Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,

And watching, with eternal lids apart,

Like Nature's patient sleepless Eremite…

The Garden Party  by KATHERINE MANSFIELD

And after all the weather was ideal.

Self-pity  by D. H. LAWRENCE

19 April 2006
Vol. 6, No. 1
poetry

I never saw a wild thing

sorry for itself.

On That Day  by D. H. LAWRENCE

18 April 2006
Vol. 6, No. 1
poetry, rhyme

  On that day

I shall put roses on roses, and cover your grave

With multitude of white roses…

Apprehension  by D. H. LAWRENCE

17 April 2006
Vol. 6, No. 1
poetry, rhyme

And all hours long, the town

  Roars like a beast in a cave…

Bliss  by KATHERINE MANSFIELD

Although Bertha Young was thirty she still had moments like this when she wanted to run instead of walk, to take dancing steps on and off the pavement, to bowl a hoop, to throw something up in the air and catch it again, or to stand still and laugh at—nothing—at nothing, simply.

 

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