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authorTheo de Raadt <deraadt@cvs.openbsd.org>1995-10-18 08:53:40 +0000
committerTheo de Raadt <deraadt@cvs.openbsd.org>1995-10-18 08:53:40 +0000
commitd6583bb2a13f329cf0332ef2570eb8bb8fc0e39c (patch)
treeece253b876159b39c620e62b6c9b1174642e070e /games/quiz/datfiles/poetry
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+Come live with me and be my love:\
+And we will all the pleasures prove:\
+{The }Passionate Shepherd{ to his Love}:\
+{Christopher }Marlowe
+Shall I compare thee to a summer's day{?}:\
+Thou art more lovely and more temperate:\
+Sonnet 18:\
+{William }Shakespeare
+Fine knacks for ladies, cheap, choice, brave, and new!:\
+Good pennyworths{! }but money cannot move:\
+Fine Knacks{ for Ladies}:\
+{John }Dowland
+My mind to me a kingdom is:\
+Such perfect joy therein I find:\
+My Mind to Me a Kingdom Is:\
+{Sir }{Edward }Dyer
+Underneath this stone doth lie:\
+As much beauty as could die:\
+Epitaph on Elizabeth{,} {L. H.}:\
+{Ben }Jonson
+Death be not proud, though some have called thee:\
+Mighty and dreadful{,} for thou art not so:\
+{Holy }Sonnet{s}{ 10}:\
+{John }Donne
+Gather ye rose-buds while ye may:\
+Old Time is still a-flying:\
+To the Virgins{,} {To Make Much of Time}:\
+{Robert }Herrick
+Why so pale and wan, fond lover?:\
+Prithee{,} why so pale{?}:\
+Song:\
+{Sir }{John }Suckling
+Stone walls do not a prison make:\
+Nor iron bars a cage:\
+To Althea{,} From Prison:\
+{Richard }Lovelace
+I could not love thee (Dear) so much,:\
+Lov['|e]d I not hono{u}r more:\
+To Lucasta{, Going to the Wars}:\
+{Richard }Lovelace
+I saw Eternity the other night:\
+Like a great ring of pure and endless light:\
+{The }World:\
+{Henry }Vaughan
+Come and trip it as you go,:\
+On the light fantastic toe:\
+L'Allegro:\
+{John }Milton
+When I consider how my light is spent:\
+Ere half my days in this dark world and wide:\
+On His Blindness|When I Consider:\
+{John }Milton
+The grave's a fine and private place{,}:\
+But none{,} I think{,} do there embrace{.}:\
+To His Coy Mistress:\
+{Andrew }Marvel
+Great wits are sure to madness near allied:\
+And thin partitions do their bounds divide:\
+Absalom and Achitophel|Absalom:\
+{John }Dryden
+A little learning is a dangerous thing{;}:\
+Drink deep{,} or taste not the Pierian spring{.}:\
+{An }Essay on Criticism|{On }Criticism:\
+{Alexander }Pope
+The curfew tolls the knell of parting day{,}:\
+The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea:\
+Elegy{ Written in a Country Church{-| }Yard:\
+{Thomas }Gray
+The best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft a-gley{,}:\
+An{'|d} lea{'|v}e us nought but grief an{'|d} pain for promised joy{.}:\
+To a Mouse:\
+{Robert }Burns
+Tiger! tiger! burning bright!:\
+In the forests of the night:\
+{The }Tiger:\
+{William }Blake
+My heart leaps up when I behold:\
+A rainbow in the sky:\
+My Heart Leaps Up:\
+{William }Wordsworth
+The world is too much with us; late and soon{,}:\
+Getting and spending{,} we lay waste our powers:\
+{The }World is Too Much With Us|Sonnet:\
+{William }Wordsworth
+A sadder and a wiser man{,}:\
+He rose the morrow morn:\
+{The }{Rime of }{The }Ancient Mariner:\
+{Samuel }{Taylor }Coleridge
+In Xanadu did Kubla Khan:\
+A stately pleasure{-| }dome decree:\
+Kubla Khan:\
+{Samuel }{Taylor }Coleridge
+She walks in beauty, like the night:\
+Of cloudless climes and starry skies:\
+She Walks in Beauty:\
+{George Gordon, }{Lord }Byron
+I want a hero- an uncommon want{,}:\
+When every year and month sends forth a new one:\
+Don Juan{ Canto I}:\
+{George Gordon, }{Lord }Byron
+A thing of beauty is a joy forever.:\
+Its loveliness increases{;|.} {it will never/Pass into nothingness}:\
+Endymion{ Book I}:\
+{John }Keats
+Matched with an aged wife, I mete and dole:\
+Unequal laws unto a savage race:\
+Ulysses:\
+{Alfred{,} }{Lord }Tennyson
+He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force{,}:\
+Something better than his dog{,} a little dearer than his horse:\
+Locksley Hall:\
+{Alfred{,} }{Lord }Tennyson
+'Tis better to have loved and lost:\
+Than never to have loved at all:\
+{In }Memoriam{ A. H. H.}:\
+{Alfred{,} }{Lord }Tennyson
+Kind hearts are more than coronets,:\
+And simple faith than Norman blood{.}:\
+Lady Clara Vere de Vere:\
+{Alfred{,} }{Lord }Tennyson
+Oh, to be in England:\
+Now that April's there:\
+Home{-| }Thoughts{,} From Abroad:\
+{Robert }Browning
+Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp{,}:\
+Or what's a heaven for{?}:\
+Andrea Del Sarto:\
+{Robert }Browning
+How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.:\
+I love thee to the depth and breadth and height:\
+Sonnet{s} {From the Portuguese}{ 43}:\
+{Elizabeth }{Barrett }Browning
+A Book of Verses underneath the Bough{,}:\
+A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread{-|,| }and Thou:\
+{The }Rubaiyat{ of Omar Khayyam}{ 12}:\
+{Edward }Fitzgerald
+The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,:\
+Moves on{\:|,|.} nor all your Piety nor Wit:\
+{The }Rubaiyat{ of Omar Khayyam}{ 71}:\
+{Edward }Fitzgerald
+Ah Love! could you and I with Him conspire:\
+To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire:\
+{The }Rubaiyat{ of Omar Khayyam}{ 99}:\
+{Edward }Fitzgerald
+Remember me when I am gone away,:\
+Gone far away into the silent land:\
+Remember:\
+{Christina }Rossetti
+Home is the sailor, home from the sea,:\
+And the hunter home from the hill:\
+Requiem:\
+{Robert }{Louis }Stevenson
+I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;:\
+I fled Him, down the arches of the years:\
+{The }Hound of Heaven:\
+{Francis }Thompson
+So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan;:\
+You're a {pore|poor} benighted {'|h}eathen but a first class fightin{'|g} man:\
+Fuzzy{-| }Wuzzy:\
+{Rudyard }Kipling
+Morns abed and daylight slumber:\
+Were not meant for man alive:\
+Reveille:\
+{A{.}{ }E{.}{ }}Houseman
+I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,:\
+And a small cabin build there{,} of clay and wattles made:\
+{The }{Lake Isle of }Innisfree:\
+{William }{Butler }Yeats
+I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,:\
+And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by:\
+Sea{-| }Fever:\
+{John }Masefield
+April is the cruelest month, breeding:\
+Lilacs out of the dead land:\
+{The }Waste{ }Land:\
+{T{.}{ }S{.}{ }}Eliot
+Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs:\
+About the little house and happy as the grass was green:\
+Fern Hill:\
+{Dylan }Thomas
+Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit:\
+Of that forbidden tree{,} whose mortal taste:\
+Paradise Lost:\
+{John }Milton