Oxus, forgetting the bright speed he had In his high mountain cradle in Pamere, A foiled circuitous wanderertill at last The longed-for dash of waves is heard, and wide His luminous home of waters opens, bright And tranquil, from whose floor the new-bathed stars Emerge, and shine upon the Aral Sea.
There was a young lady named Bright Whose speed was far faster than light; She set out one day In a relative way And returned on the previous night.
And not by eastern windows only, When daylight comes, comes in the light, In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly, But westward, look, the land is bright.
Than these November skies Is no sky lovelier. The clouds are deep; Into their grey the subtle spies Of colour creep, Changing their high austerity to delight, Till ev'n the leaden interfolds are bright.
I have Bright's disease and he has mine, sobbed the panting palooka.
Fabulous the insects Stud the air Or walk on running water, Klee-drawn saints And bright as angels are.
Webster's New World Dictionary of Quotations Copyright © 2010 by Chambers Harrap Publishers Ltd. All rights reserved. Published by Wiley, Hoboken, NJ. Used by arrangement with John Wiley & Sons, Inc.
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