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Quotes about roar, page 15

In California: Morning, Evening, Late January

Pale, then enkindled,
light
advancing,
emblazoning
summits of palm and pine,

the dew
lingering,
scripture of
scintillas.

Soon the roar
of mowers
cropping the already short
grass of lawns,

men with long-nozzled
cylinders of pesticide
poking at weeds,
at moss in cracks of cement,

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ROARING in the middle of the Night

RAAUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNNNggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg gg (00.00)

(roaaringgg)

raunnnnnnnggGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG GGGGGG (01.54)

(roarrriingg)

aUUUUUUUUUUUUUNGGGggggggggggggggggggggggg ggggg (02.35)

(roaarringg)

uUUUUUUUUUUUUNnnnnnnGGGGGGGG (03.33)

(roaarrringg)

RAUNGRIANGRIA

(roaring-happy-happy)

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The Bore

Ah, prithee friend, if thou has ought
Of love and kind regard for me
Tell not you bore the stories droll
That yesternight I told to thee.

Nor tell him stories of thine own,
Nor chestnut of antiquitee;
Nor quip, nor crank, nor anything
If thou has ought of love for me.

For sense of humour hath he none,
No gift for telling tales hath he:
Yet thinks himself within his heart
A wit of wondrous drolleree.

And in the golden summer-time
With ear a-cock he roameth free,
Collecting quibble, quip, and crank;
And anecdotes collecteth he.

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Astarte

ACROSS the dripping ridges,
O, look, luxurious night!
She comes, the bright-haired beauty,
My luminous delight!
My luminous delight!
So hush, ye shores, your roar,
That my soul may sleep, forgetting
Dead Love’s wild Nevermore!
Astarte, Syrian sister,
Your face is wet with tears;
I think you know the secret
One heart hath held for years!
One heart hath held for years!
But hide your hapless love,
And my sweet—my Syrian sister,
Dead Love’s wild Nevermore!

Ah, Helen Hope in heaven,
My queen of long ago,
I’ve swooned with adoration,

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Elizabeth Barrett Browning

To George Sand

A Desire
Thou large-brained woman and large-hearted man,
Self-called George Sand! whose soul, amid the lions
Of thy tumultuous senses, moans defiance
And answers roar for roar, as spirits can:
I would some mild miraculous thunder ran
Above the applauded circus, in appliance
Of thine own nobler nature's strength and science,
Drawing two pinions, white as wings of swan,
From thy strong shoulders, to amaze the place
With holier light! that thou to woman's claim
And man's, mightst join beside the angel's grace
Of a pure genius sanctified from blame
Till child and maiden pressed to thine embrace
To kiss upon thy lips a stainless fame.


A Recognition
True genius, but true woman! dost deny
The woman's nature with a manly scorn,

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America to England

1899

Who would trust England, let him lift his eyes
To Nelson, columned o'er Trafalgar Square,
Her hieroglyph of duty, written where
The roar of traffic hushes to the skies;
Or mark, while Paul's vast shadow softly lies
On Gordon's statued sleep, how praise and prayer
Flush through the frank young faces clustering there
To con that kindred rune of sacrifice.
O England, no bland cloud-ship in the blue,
But rough oak plunging on o'er perilous jars
Of reef and ice, our faith will follow you
The more for tempest roar that strains your spars
And splits your canvas, be your helm but true,
Your courses shapen by the eternal stars.

1900

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The Jungle

Dense shrubbery so profound
McCaws and Monkeys playing around
While a lions roar, shakes the ground
and hyenna's are laughing like circus clowns

The hissing sound of a giant snake
competing for food by a dirty lake
confronted by crocs, lousy fate
Too late...can't escape

All the Zebras with their camoflouge
strolling the plains with their antorouge
unknown to the Tigers, whom they quietly pass
going down to the lake, where the snake just was

A mountain Gorilla with his family
teaching survival seems an eternity
avoiding poachers, killing their kind
following the silverback's conyving mind

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The Open Sea

From my window I can see,
Where the sandhills dip,
One far glimpse of open sea.
Just a slender slip
Curving like a crescent moon—
Yet a greater prize
Than the harbour garden-fair
Spread beneath my eyes.

Just below me swings the bay,
Sings a sunny tune,
But my heart is far away
Out beyond the dune;
Clearer far the sea-gulls’ cry
And the breakers’ roar,
Than the little waves beneath
Lapping on the shore.

For that strip of sapphire sea
Set against the sky

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Sumter In Ruins

I.
Ye batter down the lion's den,
But yet the lordly beast g'oes free;
And ye shall hear his roar again,
From mountain height, from lowland glen,
From sandy shore and reedy fen--
Where'er a band of freeborn men
Rears sacred shrines to liberty.

II.

The serpent scales the eagle's nest,
And yet the royal bird, in air,
Triumphant wins the mountain's crest,
And sworn for strife, yet takes his rest,
And plumes, to calm, his ruffled breast,
Till, like a storm-bolt from the west,
He strikes the invader in his lair.

III.

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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Flower-De-Luce: The Bridge Of Cloud

Burn, O evening hearth, and waken
Pleasant visions, as of old!
Though the house by winds be shaken,
Safe I keep this room of gold!

Ah, no longer wizard Fancy
Builds her castles in the air,
Luring me by necromancy
Up the never-ending stair!


But, instead, she builds me bridges
Over many a dark ravine,
Where beneath the gusty ridges
Cataracts dash and roar unseen.

And I cross them, little heeding
Blast of wind or torrent's roar,
As I follow the receding
Footsteps that have gone before.

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