‘To the Orient. An Elegy’ by T. Bothwell

  At last, the sunset’s knell forebodes the ceasing day— The merchants in their silken garments trudge their way Along, with Turkish camels and Koranic tunes. Diurnal light retreats from dromedary’s dunes, And Bedouins arrive, commencing ev’ning hours And drive their caravans across Saharan bow’rs Where fading clouds announce the...

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Three Poems on John Keats by Sultana Raza

Ephemeral Constant With hued music, beautified page. His spheres were thinner than gossamer, Only to beauty, did Keats defer. Was omni-sensory, ahead of his age, Gifted synesthete; few could gauge. Lines between realities could he blur, With Psyche, or nightingale easily confer. Complex were stanzas, of youthful sage. ‘Cockney’ image...

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