poem.id,poem.ts,poem.title,poem.content,poem.author,poem.category_1_x_poem_id
21,"2018-02-27 03:33:51","When I Walk Alone....... poem","When I walk alone, I think of you my loveWhen I walk alone, I walk with broken heartWhen I walk alone, I walk with sadnessWhen I walk alone, I walk with my silent tearsWhen I walk alone, I walk with my sorrowWhen I walk alone, I walk with my sad memoriesWhen I walk alone, I walk with my shattered dreamWhen I walk alone, I walk with my hands lifelessLove never walk alone but you made me walk aloneYou promised me that you will walk with me foreverbut you made me walk alone with my tears foreverWhen the heaven stolen you from me yesterdayAll your promises are gone with the windToday, You made me walk alone with out you my loveand I promise you, I will walk alone till my journey ends","Ravi Sathasivam","{
    ""21"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 21,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
22,"2018-02-27 03:33:55","Alone poem","Alone I drift away, Alone I walk a thousand miles, Alone I fall asleep, Alone I stare at the sky, Alone I sit under a tree, Alone I cry.Alone I dream of you, Alone I hope and pray, to God who is oh so merciful and powerfulto let me find my way.Alone I drift away, Alone I live today, and alone I'll die someday.","Angela R. M. Ferrer","{
    ""22"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 22,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
23,"2018-02-27 03:33:59","06. Haiku - Alone poem","lonelinesshis childhoodwarms him uplonelinesshe warms up tohis childhoodlonelinesschildhoodhis heavenlonelinesshis childhooda repository of warmthmeditationmy heart ona sea of sublimityso lonelya poem helps fill outthe emptinessloneinessthe worlda graveyard so lonelyi cheer up myselfwriting a poem about lonelinessso lonelyi write a poem to fill outthe emptiness","john tiong chunghoo","{
    ""23"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 23,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
24,"2018-02-27 03:34:01","Let Them Alone poem","If God has been good enough to give you a poetThen listen to him. But for God's sake let him alone until he is dead; no prizes, no ceremony,They kill the man. A poet is one who listensTo nature and his own heart; and if the noise of the world grows up around him, and if he is tough enough,He can shake off his enemies, but not his friends.That is what withered Wordsworth and muffled Tennyson, and would have killed Keats; that is what makesHemingway play the fool and Faulkner forget his art.","Robinson Jeffers","{
    ""24"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 24,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
25,"2018-02-27 03:34:06","Alone In Crowds To Wander On poem","Alone in crowds to wander on, And feel that all the charm is gone Which voices dear and eyes beloved Shed round us once, where'er we roved -- This, this the doom must be Of all who've loved, and loved to see The few bright things they thought would stay For ever near them, die away. Though fairer forms around us throng, Their smiles to others all belong, And want that charm which dwells alone Round those the fond heart calls its own, Where, where the sunny brow? The long-known voice -- where are they now? Thus ask I still, nor ask in vain, The silence answers all too plain. Oh, what is Fancy's magic worth, If all her art cannot call forth One bliss like those we felt of old From lips now mute, and eyes now cold? No, no -- her spell in vain -- As soon could she bring back again Those eyes themselves from out the grave, As wake again one bliss they gave.","Thomas Moore","{
    ""25"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 25,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
26,"2018-02-27 03:34:08","As I Sat Alone By Blue Ontario's Shores poem","AS I sat alone, by blue Ontario's shore, As I mused of these mighty days, and of peace return'd, and the dead that return no more, A Phantom, gigantic, superb, with stern visage, accosted me; Chant me the poem, it said, that comes from the soul of America-- chant me the carol of victory; And strike up the marches of Libertad--marches more powerful yet; And sing me before you go, the song of the throes of Democracy. (Democracy--the destin'd conqueror--yet treacherous lip-smiles everywhere, And Death and infidelity at every step.) A Nation announcing itself, I myself make the only growth by which I can be appreciated, 10 I reject none, accept all, then reproduce all in my own forms. A breed whose proof is in time and deeds; What we are, we are--nativity is answer enough to objections; We wield ourselves as a weapon is wielded, We are powerful and tremendous in ourselves, We are executive in ourselves--We are sufficient in the variety of ourselves, We are the most beautiful to ourselves, and in ourselves; We stand self-pois'd in the middle, branching thence over the world; From Missouri, Nebraska, or Kansas, laughing attacks to scorn. Nothing is sinful to us outside of ourselves, 20 Whatever appears, whatever does not appear, we are beautiful or sinful in ourselves only. (O mother! O sisters dear! If we are lost, no victor else has destroy'd us; It is by ourselves we go down to eternal night.) Have you thought there could be but a single Supreme? There can be any number of Supremes--One does not countervail another, any more than one eyesight countervails another, or one life countervails another. All is eligible to all, All is for individuals--All is for you, No condition is prohibited--not God's, or any. All comes by the body--only health puts you rapport with the universe. 30 Produce great persons, the rest follows. America isolated I sing; I say that works made here in the spirit of other lands, are so much poison in The States. (How dare such insects as we see assume to write poems for America? For our victorious armies, and the offspring following the armies?) Piety and conformity to them that like! Peace, obesity, allegiance, to them that like! I am he who tauntingly compels men, women, nations, Crying, Leap from your seats, and contend for your lives! I am he who walks the States with a barb'd tongue, questioning every one I meet; 40 Who are you, that wanted only to be told what you knew before? Who are you, that wanted only a book to join you in your nonsense? (With pangs and cries, as thine own, O bearer of many children! These clamors wild, to a race of pride I give.) O lands! would you be freer than all that has ever been before? If you would be freer than all that has been before, come listen to me. Fear grace--Fear elegance, civilization, delicatesse, Fear the mellow sweet, the sucking of honey-juice; Beware the advancing mortal ripening of nature, Beware what precedes the decay of the ruggedness of states and men. 50 Ages, precedents, have long been accumulating undirected materials, America brings builders, and brings its own styles. The immortal poets of Asia and Europe have done their work, and pass'd to other spheres, A work remains, the work of surpassing all they have done. America, curious toward foreign characters, stands by its own at all hazards, Stands removed, spacious, composite, sound--initiates the true use of precedents, Does not repel them, or the past, or what they have produced under their forms, Takes the lesson with calmness, perceives the corpse slowly borne from the house, Perceives that it waits a little while in the door--that it was fittest for its days, That its life has descended to the stalwart and well-shaped heir who approaches, 60 And that he shall be fittest for his days. Any period, one nation must lead, One land must be the promise and reliance of the future. These States are the amplest poem, Here is not merely a nation, but a teeming nation of nations, Here the doings of men correspond with the broadcast doings of the day and night, Here is what moves in magnificent masses, careless of particulars, Here are the roughs, beards, friendliness, combativeness, the Soul loves, Here the flowing trains--here the crowds, equality, diversity, the Soul loves. Land of lands, and bards to corroborate! 70 Of them, standing among them, one lifts to the light his west-bred face, To him the hereditary countenance bequeath'd, both mother's and father's, His first parts substances, earth, water, animals, trees, Built of the common stock, having room for far and near, Used to dispense with other lands, incarnating this land, Attracting it Body and Soul to himself, hanging on its neck with incomparable love, Plunging his seminal muscle into its merits and demerits, Making its cities, beginnings, events, diversities, wars, vocal in him, Making its rivers, lakes, bays, embouchure in him, Mississippi with yearly freshets and changing chutes--Columbia, Niagara, Hudson, spending themselves lovingly in him, 80 If the Atlantic coast stretch, or the Pacific coast stretch, he stretching with them north or south, Spanning between them, east and west, and touching whatever is between them, Growths growing from him to offset the growth of pine, cedar, hemlock, live-oak, locust, chestnut, hickory, cottonwood, orange, magnolia, Tangles as tangled in him as any cane-brake or swamp, He likening sides and peaks of mountains, forests coated with northern transparent ice, Off him pasturage, sweet and natural as savanna, upland, prairie, Through him flights, whirls, screams, answering those of the fish- hawk, mocking-bird, night-heron, and eagle; His spirit surrounding his country's spirit, unclosed to good and evil, Surrounding the essences of real things, old times and present times, Surrounding just found shores, islands, tribes of red aborigines, 90 Weather-beaten vessels, landings, settlements, embryo stature and muscle, The haughty defiance of the Year 1--war, peace, the formation of the Constitution, The separate States, the simple, elastic scheme, the immigrants, The Union, always swarming with blatherers, and always sure and impregnable, The unsurvey'd interior, log-houses, clearings, wild animals, hunters, trappers; Surrounding the multiform agriculture, mines, temperature, the gestation of new States, Congress convening every Twelfth-month, the members duly coming up from the uttermost parts; Surrounding the noble character of mechanics and farmers, especially the young men, Responding their manners, speech, dress, friendships--the gait they have of persons who never knew how it felt to stand in the presence of superiors, The freshness and candor of their physiognomy, the copiousness and decision of their phrenology, 100 The picturesque looseness of their carriage, their fierceness when wrong'd, The fluency of their speech, their delight in music, their curiosity, good temper, and open-handedness--the whole composite make, The prevailing ardor and enterprise, the large amativeness, The perfect equality of the female with the male, the fluid movement of the population, The superior marine, free commerce, fisheries, whaling, gold-digging, Wharf-hemm'd cities, railroad and steamboat lines, intersecting all points, Factories, mercantile life, labor-saving machinery, the north-east, north-west, south-west, Manhattan firemen, the Yankee swap, southern plantation life, Slavery--the murderous, treacherous conspiracy to raise it upon the ruins of all the rest; On and on to the grapple with it--Assassin! then your life or ours be the stake--and respite no more. 110 (Lo! high toward heaven, this day, Libertad! from the conqueress' field return'd, I mark the new aureola around your head; No more of soft astral, but dazzling and fierce, With war's flames, and the lambent lightnings playing, And your port immovable where you stand; With still the inextinguishable glance, and the clench'd and lifted fist, And your foot on the neck of the menacing one, the scorner, utterly crush'd beneath you; The menacing, arrogant one, that strode and advanced with his senseless scorn, bearing the murderous knife; --Lo! the wide swelling one, the braggart, that would yesterday do so much! 120 To-day a carrion dead and damn'd, the despised of all the earth! An offal rank, to the dunghill maggots spurn'd.) Others take finish, but the Republic is ever constructive, and ever keeps vista; Others adorn the past--but you, O days of the present, I adorn you! O days of the future, I believe in you! I isolate myself for your sake; O America, because you build for mankind, I build for you! O well-beloved stone-cutters! I lead them who plan with decision and science, I lead the present with friendly hand toward the future. Bravas to all impulses sending sane children to the next age! But damn that which spends itself, with no thought of the stain, pains, dismay, feebleness it is bequeathing. 130 I listened to the Phantom by Ontario's shore, I heard the voice arising, demanding bards; By them, all native and grand--by them alone can The States be fused into the compact organism of a Nation. To hold men together by paper and seal, or by compulsion, is no account; That only holds men together which aggregates all in a living principle, as the hold of the limbs of the body, or the fibres of plants. Of all races and eras, These States, with veins full of poetical stuff, most need poets, and are to have the greatest, and use them the greatest; Their Presidents shall not be their common referee so much as their poets shall. (Soul of love, and tongue of fire! Eye to pierce the deepest deeps, and sweep the world! --Ah, mother! prolific and full in all besides--yet how long barren, barren?) 140 Of These States, the poet is the equable man, Not in him, but off from him, things are grotesque, eccentric, fail of their full returns, Nothing out of its place is good, nothing in its place is bad, He bestows on every object or quality its fit proportion, neither more nor less, He is the arbiter of the diverse, he is the key, He is the equalizer of his age and land, He supplies what wants supplying--he checks what wants checking, In peace, out of him speaks the spirit of peace, large, rich, thrifty, building populous towns, encouraging agriculture, arts, commerce, lighting the study of man, the Soul, health, immortality, government; In war, he is the best backer of the war--he fetches artillery as good as the engineer's--he can make every word he speaks draw blood; The years straying toward infidelity, he withholds by his steady faith, 150 He is no argurer, he is judgment--(Nature accepts him absolutely;) He judges not as the judge judges, but as the sun falling round a helpless thing; As he sees the farthest, he has the most faith, His thoughts are the hymns of the praise of things, In the dispute on God and eternity he is silent, He sees eternity less like a play with a prologue and denouement, He sees eternity in men and women--he does not see men and women as dreams or dots. For the great Idea, the idea of perfect and free individuals, For that idea the bard walks in advance, leader of leaders, The attitude of him cheers up slaves and horrifies foreign despots. 160 Without extinction is Liberty! without retrograde is Equality! They live in the feelings of young men, and the best women; Not for nothing have the indomitable heads of the earth been always ready to fall for Liberty. For the great Idea! That, O my brethren--that is the mission of Poets. Songs of stern defiance, ever ready, Songs of the rapid arming, and the march, The flag of peace quick-folded, and instead, the flag we know, Warlike flag of the great Idea. (Angry cloth I saw there leaping! 170 I stand again in leaden rain, your flapping folds saluting; I sing you over all, flying, beckoning through the fight--O the hard- contested fight! O the cannons ope their rosy-flashing muzzles! the hurtled balls scream! The battle-front forms amid the smoke--the volleys pour incessant from the line; Hark! the ringing word, Charge!--now the tussle, and the furious maddening yells; Now the corpses tumble curl'd upon the ground, Cold, cold in death, for precious life of you, Angry cloth I saw there leaping.) Are you he who would assume a place to teach, or be a poet here in The States? The place is august--the terms obdurate. 180 Who would assume to teach here, may well prepare himself, body and mind, He may well survey, ponder, arm, fortify, harden, make lithe, himself, He shall surely be question'd beforehand by me with many and stern questions. Who are you, indeed, who would talk or sing to America? Have you studied out the land, its idioms and men? Have you learn'd the physiology, phrenology, politics, geography, pride, freedom, friendship, of the land? its substratums and objects? Have you consider'd the organic compact of the first day of the first year of Independence, sign'd by the Commissioners, ratified by The States, and read by Washington at the head of the army? Have you possess'd yourself of the Federal Constitution? Do you see who have left all feudal processes and poems behind them, and assumed the poems and processes of Democracy? Are you faithful to things? do you teach as the land and sea, the bodies of men, womanhood, amativeness, angers, teach? 190 Have you sped through fleeting customs, popularities? Can you hold your hand against all seductions, follies, whirls, fierce contentions? are you very strong? are you really of the whole people? Are you not of some coterie? some school or mere religion? Are you done with reviews and criticisms of life? animating now to life itself? Have you vivified yourself from the maternity of These States? Have you too the old, ever-fresh forbearance and impartiality? Do you hold the like love for those hardening to maturity; for the last-born? little and big? and for the errant? What is this you bring my America? Is it uniform with my country? Is it not something that has been better told or done before? 200 Have you not imported this, or the spirit of it, in some ship? Is it not a mere tale? a rhyme? a prettiness? is the good old cause in it? Has it not dangled long at the heels of the poets, politicians, literats, of enemies' lands? Does it not assume that what is notoriously gone is still here? Does it answer universal needs? will it improve manners? Does it sound, with trumpet-voice, the proud victory of the Union, in that secession war? Can your performance face the open fields and the seaside? Will it absorb into me as I absorb food, air--to appear again in my strength, gait, face? Have real employments contributed to it? original makers--not mere amanuenses? Does it meet modern discoveries, calibers, facts face to face? 210 What does it mean to me? to American persons, progresses, cities? Chicago, Kanada, Arkansas? the planter, Yankee, Georgian, native, immigrant, sailors, squatters, old States, new States? Does it encompass all The States, and the unexceptional rights of all the men and women of the earth? (the genital impulse of These States;) Does it see behind the apparent custodians, the real custodians, standing, menacing, silent--the mechanics, Manhattanese, western men, southerners, significant alike in their apathy, and in the promptness of their love? Does it see what finally befalls, and has always finally befallen, each temporizer, patcher, outsider, partialist, alarmist, infidel, who has ever ask'd anything of America? What mocking and scornful negligence? The track strew'd with the dust of skeletons; By the roadside others disdainfully toss'd. Rhymes and rhymers pass away--poems distill'd from foreign poems pass away, The swarms of reflectors and the polite pass, and leave ashes; Admirers, importers, obedient persons, make but the soul of literature; 220 America justifies itself, give it time--no disguise can deceive it, or conceal from it--it is impassive enough, Only toward the likes of itself will it advance to meet them, If its poets appear, it will in due time advance to meet them--there is no fear of mistake, (The proof of a poet shall be sternly deferr'd, till his country absorbs him as affectionately as he has absorb'd it.) He masters whose spirit masters--he tastes sweetest who results sweetest in the long run; The blood of the brawn beloved of time is unconstraint; In the need of poems, philosophy, politics, manners, engineering, an appropriate native grand-opera, shipcraft, any craft, he or she is greatest who contributes the greatest original practical example. Already a nonchalant breed, silently emerging, appears on the streets, People's lips salute only doers, lovers, satisfiers, positive knowers; There will shortly be no more priests--I say their work is done, 230 Death is without emergencies here, but life is perpetual emergencies here, Are your body, days, manners, superb? after death you shall be superb; Justice, health, self-esteem, clear the way with irresistible power; How dare you place anything before a man? Fall behind me, States! A man before all--myself, typical before all. Give me the pay I have served for! Give me to sing the song of the great Idea! take all the rest; I have loved the earth, sun, animals--I have despised riches, I have given alms to every one that ask'd, stood up for the stupid and crazy, devoted my income and labor to others, 240 I have hated tyrants, argued not concerning God, had patience and indulgence toward the people, taken off my hat to nothing known or unknown, I have gone freely with powerful uneducated persons, and with the young, and with the mothers of families, I have read these leaves to myself in the open air--I have tried them by trees, stars, rivers, I have dismiss'd whatever insulted my own Soul or defiled my Body, I have claim'd nothing to myself which I have not carefully claim'd for others on the same terms, I have sped to the camps, and comrades found and accepted from every State; (In war of you, as well as peace, my suit is good, America--sadly I boast; Upon this breast has many a dying soldier lean'd, to breathe his last; This arm, this hand, this voice, have nourish'd, rais'd, restored, To life recalling many a prostrate form:) 250 --I am willing to wait to be understood by the growth of the taste of myself, I reject none, I permit all. (Say, O mother! have I not to your thought been faithful? Have I not, through life, kept you and yours before me?) I swear I begin to see the meaning of these things! It is not the earth, it is not America, who is so great, It is I who am great, or to be great--it is you up there, or any one; It is to walk rapidly through civilizations, governments, theories, Through poems, pageants, shows, to form great individuals. Underneath all, individuals! 260 I swear nothing is good to me now that ignores individuals, The American compact is altogether with individuals, The only government is that which makes minute of individuals, The whole theory of the universe is directed to one single individual--namely, to You. (Mother! with subtle sense severe--with the naked sword in your hand, I saw you at last refuse to treat but directly with individuals.) Underneath all, nativity, I swear I will stand by my own nativity--pious or impious, so be it; I swear I am charm'd with nothing except nativity, Men, women, cities, nations, are only beautiful from nativity. 270 Underneath all is the need of the expression of love for men and women, I swear I have seen enough of mean and impotent modes of expressing love for men and women, After this day I take my own modes of expressing love for men and women. I swear I will have each quality of my race in myself, (Talk as you like, he only suits These States whose manners favor the audacity and sublime turbulence of The States.) Underneath the lessons of things, spirits, Nature, governments, ownerships, I swear I perceive other lessons, Underneath all, to me is myself--to you, yourself--(the same monotonous old song.) O I see now, flashing, that this America is only you and me, Its power, weapons, testimony, are you and me, Its crimes, lies, thefts, defections, slavery, are you and me, 280 Its Congress is you and me--the officers, capitols, armies, ships, are you and me, Its endless gestations of new States are you and me, The war--that war so bloody and grim--the war I will henceforth forget--was you and me, Natural and artificial are you and me, Freedom, language, poems, employments, are you and me, Past, present, future, are you and me. I swear I dare not shirk any part of myself, Not any part of America, good or bad, Not the promulgation of Liberty--not to cheer up slaves and horrify foreign despots, Not to build for that which builds for mankind, 290 Not to balance ranks, complexions, creeds, and the sexes, Not to justify science, nor the march of equality, Nor to feed the arrogant blood of the brawn beloved of time. I swear I am for those that have never been master'd! For men and women whose tempers have never been master'd, For those whom laws, theories, conventions, can never master. I swear I am for those who walk abreast with the whole earth! Who inaugurate one, to inaugurate all. I swear I will not be outfaced by irrational things! I will penetrate what it is in them that is sarcastic upon me! 300 I will make cities and civilizations defer to me! This is what I have learnt from America--it is the amount--and it I teach again. (Democracy! while weapons were everywhere aim'd at your breast, I saw you serenely give birth to immortal children--saw in dreams your dilating form; Saw you with spreading mantle covering the world.) I will confront these shows of the day and night! I will know if I am to be less than they! I will see if I am not as majestic as they! I will see if I am not as subtle and real as they! I will see if I am to be less generous than they! 310 I will see if I have no meaning, while the houses and ships have meaning! I will see if the fishes and birds are to be enough for themselves, and I am not to be enough for myself. I match my spirit against yours, you orbs, growths, mountains, brutes, Copious as you are, I absorb you all in myself, and become the master myself. America isolated, yet embodying all, what is it finally except myself? These States--what are they except myself? I know now why the earth is gross, tantalizing, wicked--it is for my sake, I take you to be mine, you beautiful, terrible, rude forms. (Mother! bend down, bend close to me your face! I know not what these plots and wars, and deferments are for; 320 I know not fruition's success--but I know that through war and peace your work goes on, and must yet go on.) .... Thus, by blue Ontario's shore, While the winds fann'd me, and the waves came trooping toward me, I thrill'd with the Power's pulsations--and the charm of my theme was upon me, Till the tissues that held me, parted their ties upon me. And I saw the free Souls of poets; The loftiest bards of past ages strode before me, Strange, large men, long unwaked, undisclosed, were disclosed to me. O my rapt verse, my call--mock me not! Not for the bards of the past--not to invoke them have I launch'd you forth, 330 Not to call even those lofty bards here by Ontario's shores, Have I sung so capricious and loud, my savage song. Bards for my own land, only, I invoke; (For the war, the war is over--the field is clear'd,) Till they strike up marches henceforth triumphant and onward, To cheer, O mother, your boundless, expectant soul. Bards grand as these days so grand! Bards of the great Idea! Bards of the peaceful inventions! (for the war, the war is over!) Yet Bards of the latent armies--a million soldiers waiting, ever- ready, Bards towering like hills--(no more these dots, these pigmies, these little piping straws, these gnats, that fill the hour, to pass for poets;) 340 Bards with songs as from burning coals, or the lightning's fork'd stripes! Ample Ohio's bards--bards for California! inland bards--bards of the war;) (As a wheel turns on its axle, so I find my chants turning finally on the war;) Bards of pride! Bards tallying the ocean's roar, and the swooping eagle's scream! You, by my charm, I invoke!","Walt Whitman","{
    ""26"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 26,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
27,"2018-02-27 03:34:13","I Go Out On The Road Alone poem","Alone I set out on the road;The flinty path is sparkling in the mist;The night is still. The desert harks to God,And star with star converses.The vault is overwhelmed with solemn wonder The earth in cobalt aura sleeps. . .Why do I feel so pained and troubled? What do I harbor: hope, regrets? I see no hope in years to come,Have no regrets for things gone by. All that I seek is peace and freedom!To lose myself and sleep!But not the frozen slumber of the grave...I'd like eternal sleep to leaveMy life force dozing in my breastGently with my breath to rise and fall;By night and day, my hearing would be soothedBy voices sweet, singing to me of love.And over me, forever green,A dark oak tree would bend and rustle.","Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov","{
    ""27"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 27,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
28,"2018-02-27 03:34:16","Alone poem","Day by day, I wake alone, in a cold and empty bed, Day by day, thoughts of you, keep running through my head.I wake and wish this day would be the one I see your smileI sit and wait to see your face, I'm living in denial.Because I know that there's no way that I'll see you today, And as the sun begins to set, my hopes will slip away.As darkness covers this cruel world, my heart grows darker too, And I will whisper to the night how much I long for you.The stars begin to twinkle, lighting up the sky above, But the only light I long to see is the light of your love.I pray tomorrow is that day that I'm holding you tight, As in my cold and empty bed, I stare alone into the night.","Mariann Gentile","{
    ""28"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 28,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
29,"2018-02-27 03:34:22","Roots And Leaves Themselves Alone poem","ROOTS and leaves themselves alone are these; Scents brought to men and women from the wild woods, and from the pond-side, Breast-sorrel and pinks of love--fingers that wind around tighter than vines, Gushes from the throats of birds, hid in the foliage of trees, as the sun is risen; Breezes of land and love--breezes set from living shores out to you on the living sea--to you, O sailors! Frost-mellow'd berries, and Third-month twigs, offer'd fresh to young persons wandering out in the fields when the winter breaks up, Love-buds, put before you and within you, whoever you are, Buds to be unfolded on the old terms; If you bring the warmth of the sun to them, they will open, and bring form, color, perfume, to you; If you become the aliment and the wet, they will become flowers, fruits, tall blanches and trees. 10","Walt Whitman","{
    ""29"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 29,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
30,"2018-02-27 03:34:27","I Only Am Escaped Alone To Tell Thee poem","I tell you that I see her stillAt the dark entrance of the hall.One gas lamp burning near her shoulder Shone also from her other sideWhere hung the long inaccurate glassWhose pictures were as troubled water.An immense shadow had its handBetween us on the floor, and seemed To hump the knuckles nervously, A giant crab readying to walk, Or a blanket moving in its sleep.You will remember, with a smileInstructed by movies to reminisce, How strict her corsets must have been, How the huge arrangements of her hairWould certainly betray the least Impassionate displacement there.It was no rig for dallying, And maybe only marriage could Derange that queenly scaffolding -As when a great ship, coming home, Coasts in the harbor, dropping sailAnd loosing all the tackle that had lacedHer in the long lanes... I know We need not draw this figure outBut all that whalebone came for whalesAnd all the whales lived in the sea, In calm beneath the troubled glass, Until the needle drew their blood.I see her standing in the hall, Where the mirror's lashed to blood and foam, And the black flukes of agonyBeat at the air till the light blows out.","Howard Nemerov","{
    ""30"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 30,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
31,"2018-02-27 03:34:32","Sonnet 79: Whilst I Alone Did Call Upon .. poem","Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid,My verse alone had all thy gentle grace,But now my gracious numbers are decayed,And my sick Muse doth give an other place.I grant, sweet love, thy lovely argumentDeserves the travail of a worthier pen,Yet what of thee thy poet doth inventHe robs thee of, and pays it thee again.He lends thee virtue, and he stole that wordFrom thy behaviour; beauty doth he give,And found it in thy cheek; he can affordNo praise to thee, but what in thee doth live. Then thank him not for that which he doth say, Since what he owes thee, thou thyself dost pay.","William Shakespeare","{
    ""31"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 31,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
32,"2018-02-27 03:34:39","All Alone poem","I. Ah! wherefore by the Church-yard side,Poor little LORN ONE, dost thou stray?Thy wavy locks but thinly hideThe tears that dim thy blue-eye's ray;And wherefore dost thou sigh, and moan,And weep, that thou art left alone?II. Thou art not left alone, poor boy,The Trav'ller stops to hear thy tale;No heart, so hard, would thee annoy!For tho' thy mother's cheek is paleAnd withers under yon grave stone,Thou art not, Urchin, left alone.III. I know thee well ! thy yellow hairIn silky waves I oft have seen;Thy dimpled face, so fresh and fair,Thy roguish smile, thy playful mienWere all to me, poor Orphan, known,Ere Fate had left thee--all alone!IV. Thy russet coat is scant, and torn,Thy cheek is now grown deathly pale!Thy eyes are dim, thy looks forlorn,And bare thy bosom meets the gale;And oft I hear thee deeply groan,That thou, poor boy, art left alone.V. Thy naked feet are wounded soreWith thorns, that cross thy daily road;The winter winds around thee roar,The church-yard is thy bleak abode;Thy pillow now, a cold grave stone--And there thou lov'st to grieve--alone!VI. The rain has drench'd thee, all night long;The nipping frost thy bosom froze;And still, the yewtree-shades among,I heard thee sigh thy artless woes;I heard thee, till the day-star shoneIn darkness weep--and weep alone!VII. Oft have I seen thee, little boy,Upon thy lovely mother's knee;For when she liv'd--thou wert her joy,Though now a mourner thou must be!For she lies low, where yon grave-stoneProclaims, that thou art left alone.VIII. Weep, weep no more; on yonder hillThe village bells are ringing, gay;The merry reed, and brawling rillCall thee to rustic sports away.Then wherefore weep, and sigh, and moan,A truant from the throng--alone?IX. ""I cannot the green hill ascend,""I cannot pace the upland mead;""I cannot in the vale attend,""To hear the merry-sounding reed:""For all is still, beneath yon stone,""Where my poor mother's left alone!X. ""I cannot gather gaudy flowers""To dress the scene of revels loud--""I cannot pass the ev'ning hours""Among the noisy village croud--""For, all in darkness, and alone""My mother sleeps, beneath yon stone.XI. ""See how the stars begin to gleam""The sheep-dog barks, 'tis time to go;--""The night-fly hums, the moonlight beam""Peeps through the yew-tree's shadowy row--""It falls upon the white grave-stone,""Where my dear mother sleeps alone.--XII. ""O stay me not, for I must go""The upland path in haste to tread;""For there the pale primroses grow""They grow to dress my mother's bed.--""They must, ere peep of day, be strown,""Where she lies mould'ring all alone.XIII. ""My father o'er the stormy sea""To distant lands was borne away,""And still my mother stay'd with me""And wept by night and toil'd by day.""And shall I ever quit the stone""Where she is, left, to sleep alone.XIV. ""My father died; and still I found""My mother fond and kind to me;""I felt her breast with rapture bound""When first I prattled on her knee--""And then she blest my infant tone""And little thought of yon grave-stone.XV. ""No more her gentle voice I hear,""No more her smile of fondness see;""Then wonder not I shed the tear""She would have DIED, to follow me!""And yet she sleeps beneath yon stone""And I STILL LIVE--to weep alone.XVI. ""The playful kid, she lov'd so well""From yon high clift was seen to fall;""I heard, afar, his tink'ling bell--""Which seem'd in vain for aid to call--""I heard the harmless suff'rer moan,""And grieved that he was left alone.XVII. ""Our faithful dog grew mad, and died,""The lightning smote our cottage low--""We had no resting-place beside""And knew not whither we should go,--""For we were poor,--and hearts of stone""Will never throb at mis'ry's groan.XVIII. ""My mother still surviv'd for me,""She led me to the mountain's brow,""She watch'd me, while at yonder tree""I sat, and wove the ozier bough;""And oft she cried, ""fear not, MINE OWN!""Thou shalt not, BOY, be left ALONE.""XXI. ""The blast blew strong, the torrent rose""And bore our shatter'd cot away;""And, where the clear brook swiftly flows--""Upon the turf at dawn of day,""When bright the sun's full lustre shone,""I wander'd, FRIENDLESS--and ALONE!""XX. Thou art not, boy, for I have seenThy tiny footsteps print the dew,And while the morning sky sereneSpread o'er the hill a yellow hue,I heard thy sad and plaintive moan,Beside the cold sepulchral stone.XXI. And when the summer noontide hoursWith scorching rays the landscape spread,I mark'd thee, weaving fragrant flow'rsTo deck thy mother's silent bed!Nor, at the church-yard's simple stone,Wert, thou, poor Urchin, left alone.XXII. I follow'd thee, along the daleAnd up the woodland's shad'wy way:I heard thee tell thy mournful taleAs slowly sunk the star of day:Nor, when its twinkling light had flown,Wert thou a wand'rer, all alone.XXIII. ""O! yes, I was! and still shall be""A wand'rer, mourning and forlorn;""For what is all the world to me--""What are the dews and buds of morn?""Since she, who left me sad, alone""In darkness sleeps, beneath yon stone!XXIV. ""No brother's tear shall fall for me,""For I no brother ever knew;""No friend shall weep my destiny""For friends are scarce, and tears are few;""None do I see, save on this stone""Where I will stay, and weep alone!XXV. ""My Father never will return,""He rests beneath the sea-green wave;""I have no kindred left, to mourn""When I am hid in yonder grave!""Not one ! to dress with flow'rs the stone;--""Then--surely , I AM LEFT ALONE!""","Mary Darby Robinson","{
    ""32"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 32,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
33,"2018-02-27 03:34:45","On The Beach At Night, Alone poem","ON the beach at night alone, As the old mother sways her to and fro, singing her husky song, As I watch the bright stars shining--I think a thought of the clef of the universes, and of the future. A VAST SIMILITUDE interlocks all, All spheres, grown, ungrown, small, large, suns, moons, planets, comets, asteroids, All the substances of the same, and all that is spiritual upon the same, All distances of place, however wide, All distances of time--all inanimate forms, All Souls--all living bodies, though they be ever so different, or in different worlds, All gaseous, watery, vegetable, mineral processes--the fishes, the brutes, 10 All men and women--me also; All nations, colors, barbarisms, civilizations, languages; All identities that have existed, or may exist, on this globe, or any globe; All lives and deaths--all of the past, present, future; This vast similitude spans them, and always has spann'd, and shall forever span them, and compactly hold them, and enclose them.","Walt Whitman","{
    ""33"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 33,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
34,"2018-02-27 03:34:48","The Gardener Ix: When I Go Alone At Night poem","When I go alone at night to mylove-tryst, birds do not sing, the winddoes not stir, the houses on both sidesof the street stand silent. It is my own anklets that grow loud at every step and I am ashamed. When I sit on my balcony and listenfor his footsteps, leaves do not rustleon the trees, and the water is still inthe river like the sword on the kneesof a sentry fallen asleep. It is my own heart that beats wildly--I do not know how to quiet it. When my love comes and sits bymy side, when my body trembles andmy eyelids droop, the night darkens,the wind blows out the lamp, and theclouds draw veils over the stars. It is the jewel at my own breastthat shines and gives light. I do notknow how to hide it.","Rabindranath Tagore","{
    ""34"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 34,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
35,"2018-02-27 03:34:50","A Heart Breaks Easier Alone poem","A heart breaks easier aloneWhen no one sees you cryingWhen no one notices at allThat inside you are dyingA heart breaks easier aloneWhen they all think you're crazyThat when you crawl back in your bedThe whole world thinks you're lazyA heart breaks easier aloneAnd there's no way to mend itTo stop the heart from breaking moreYou simply have to end itA heart breaks easier aloneWithout a love to heal itAnd finally the breaking's doneWhen you no longer feel it","Walter Krijthe","{
    ""35"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 35,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
36,"2018-02-27 03:34:54","Alone In The Wind, On The Prairie poem","I know a seraph who has golden eyes,And hair of gold, and body like the snow.Here in the wind I dream her unbound hairIs blowing round me, that desire's sweet glowHas touched her pale keen face, and willful mien.And though she steps as one in manner bornTo tread the forests of fair Paradise,Dark memory's wood she chooses to adorn.Here with bowed head, bashful with half-desireShe glides into my yesterday's deep dream,All glowing by the misty ferny cliffBeside the far forbidden thundering stream.Within my dream I shake with the old flood.I fear its going, ere the spring days go.Yet pray the glory may have deathless years,And kiss her hair, and sweet throat like the snow.","Vachel Lindsay","{
    ""36"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 36,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
37,"2018-02-27 03:34:58","Love Walked Alone. poem","Love walked alone. The rocks cut her tender feet, And the brambles tore her fair limbs. There came a companion to her, But, alas, he was no help, For his name was heart's pain. .","Stephen Crane","{
    ""37"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 37,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
38,"2018-02-27 03:35:02","Alone In My Darknees poem","alone in my darkneesi was alone...alone i live in my darkness..no one share me..no one considerated my feelings..i was a human without sense...without loving....and i was without heart....i wasn`t saw in my darknees, only myself..and my blackest dark..suddenly.. a light came to me from a far way..yes, its come and be near and close to me..its come and its lights my darkness..its let me to see around me..its knowing me who was near me...then i became not alone i am with others..became a human shared in feelings with others..i became a human with a feelings..with a loving....and i was with a heart....suddenly agian, a lights wants to go...after its lights my darkness..and after its make my heart a white..no, no, don`t let my heart become agian blackest..and don`t let me be agian alone...plz don`t do.....","hazem al jaber","{
    ""38"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 38,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
39,"2018-02-27 03:35:08","Helen All Alone poem","There was darkness under HeavenFor an hour's space--Darkness that we knew was givenUs for special grace.Sun and noon and stars were hid,God had left His Throne,When Helen came to me, she did,Helen all alone!Side by side (because our fateDamned us ere our birth)We stole out of Limbo GateLooking for the Earth.Hand in pulling hand amidFear no dreams have known,Helen ran with me, she did,Helen all alone!When the Horror passing speechHunted us along,Each laid hold on each, and eachFound the other strong.In the teeth of Things forbidAnd Reason overthrown,Helen stood by me, she did,Helen all alone!When, at last, we heard those FiresDull and die away,When, at last, our linked desiresDragged us up to day;When, at last, our souls were ridOf what that Night had shown,Helen passed from me, she did,Helen all alone!Let her go and find a mate,As I will find a bride,Knowing naught of Limbo GateOr Who are penned inside.There is knowledge God forbidMore than one should own.So Helen went from me, she did,Oh, my soul, be glad she did!Helen all alone!","Rudyard Kipling","{
    ""39"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 39,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
40,"2018-02-27 03:35:11","Love Reckons By Itself—alone poem","826Love reckons by itself—alone—""As large as I""—relate the SunTo One who never felt it blaze—Itself is all the like it has—","Emily Dickinson","{
    ""40"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 40,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"