martes, 25 de octubre de 2016

Robert Frost - The Road Not Taken

       

Robert Frost - The Road Not Taken


Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.



Robert Frost - O caminho não percorrido (PT)


Dois caminhos divergiam num bosque amarelo
Triste por não poder seguir os dois
E por ser apenas um viajante, segui
Um deles o mais longe que pude com o olhar,
Até o ponto onde ele se perde no mato

Tomei o outro que me pareceu mais belo,
Oferecendo talvez a vantagem
De uma relva que se podia pisar,
Embora o estado de ambos fosse o mesmo
E naquela manhã eles fossem iguais

Ambos estavam sob relvas que nenhum passo
Enegrecera. Oh deixei
Para outra vez o primeiro!
Mas como sabia que ao caminho se juntam
Os caminhos, duvidei que um dia voltasse.

Hei de contar isto suspirando,
Daqui a muito tempo, nalgum lugar:
Dois caminhos divergiam num bosque, e eu
Segui o menos trilhado,
E foi o que fez toda a diferença.

Robert Lee Frost (1874-1963)

Foi um dos mais importantes poetas dos Estados Unidos do século XX.




Conteúdo completo disponível em:









Richard-Watson-Dixon-The-Wizards-Funeral

Richard Watson Dixon - The Wizard's Funeral

For me, for me, two horses wait, 
Two horses stand before my gate: 
Their vast black plumes on high are cast, 
Their black manes swing in the midnight blast, 
Red sparkles from their eyes fly fast. 
But can they drag the hearse behind, 
Whose black plumes mystify the wind? 
What a thing for this heap of bones and hair! 
Despair, despair! 
Yet think of half the world's winged shapes 
Which have come to thee wondering: 
At thee the terrible idiot gapes, 
At thee the running devil japes, 
And angels stoop to thee and sing 
From the soft midnight that enwraps 
Their limbs, so gently, sadly fair;-- 
Thou seest the stars shine through their hair. 
The blast again, ho, ho, the blast! 
I go to a mansion that shall outlast; 
And the stoled priest who steps before 
Shall turn and welcome me at the door.















Christina-Rossetti-Up-Hill

Christina Rossetti - Up-Hill

Does the road wind up-hill all the way? 
   Yes, to the very end. 
Will the day’s journey take the whole long day? 
   From morn to night, my friend. 

But is there for the night a resting-place? 
   A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. 
May not the darkness hide it from my face? 
   You cannot miss that inn. 

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night? 
   Those who have gone before. 
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight? 
   They will not keep you standing at that door. 

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak? 
   Of labour you shall find the sum. 
Will there be beds for me and all who seek? 
   Yea, beds for all who come.
















William-Blake-The-Two-Songs

William Blake - The Two Songs

I heard an Angel Singing
When the day was springing:
"Mercy, pity, and peace,
Are the world's release."

So he sang all day
Over the new-mown hay,
Till the sun went down,
And the haycocks looked brown.

I heard a devil curse
Over the heath and the furse:
"Mercy vould be no more
If there were nobody poor,
And pity no more could be
If all were happy as ye:
And mutual fear brings peace,
Misery's increase
Are mercy, pity, and peace."

At his curse the sun went down,
And the heavens gave a frown. 



















Anonymous-A-Tom-O-Bedlam-Song

Anonymous - A Tom O' Bedlam Song

From the hag and hungry goblin
That into rags would rend ye,
The spirit that stands by the naked man
In the Book of Moons defend ye,
That of your five sound senses
You never be forsaken,
Nor wander from your selves with Tom
Abroad to beg your bacon,
While I do sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink, or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.

Of thirty bare years have I
Twice twenty been enragèd,
And of forty been three times fifteen
In durance soundly cagèd
On the lordly lofts of Bedlam,
With stubble soft and dainty,
Brave bracelets strong, sweet whips ding-dong,
With wholesome hunger plenty,
And now I sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink, or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.

With a thought I took for Maudlin
And a cruse of cockle pottage,
With a thing thus tall, sky bless you all,
I befell into this dotage.
I slept not since the Conquest,
Till then I never wakèd,
Till the roguish boy of love where I lay
Me found and stript me nakèd.
And now I sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink, or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.

When I short have shorn my sow's face
And swigged my horny barrel,
In an oaken inn I pound my skin
As a suit of gilt apparel;
The moon's my constant mistress,
And the lowly owl my marrow;
The flaming drake and the night crow make
Me music to my sorrow.
While I do sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink, or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.

The palsy plagues my pulses
When I prig your pigs or pullen,
Your culvers take, or matchless make
Your Chanticleer or Sullen.
When I want provant with Humphrey
I sup, and when benighted,
I repose in Paul's with waking souls
Yet never am affrighted.
But I do sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink, or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.

I know more than Apollo,
For oft, when he lies sleeping
I see the stars at bloody wars
In the wounded welkin weeping;
The moon embrace her shepherd,
And the Queen of Love her warrior,
While the first doth horn the star of morn,
And the next the heavenly Farrier.
While I do sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink, or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.

The gypsies, Snap and Pedro,
Are none of Tom's comradoes,
The punk I scorn and the cutpurse sworn,
And the roaring boy's bravadoes.
The meek, the white, the gentle
Me handle, touch, and spare not;
But those that cross Tom Rynosseros
Do what the panther dare not.
Although I sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink, or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.

With a host of furious fancies
Whereof I am commander,
With a burning spear and a horse of air,
To the wilderness I wander.
By a knight of ghosts and shadows
I summoned am to tourney
Ten leagues beyond the wide world's end::
Methinks it is no journey.
Yet will I sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink, or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.















Laurence-Hope-The-Teak-Forest

Laurence Hope - The Teak Forest

WHETHER I loved you who shall say?
Whether I drifted down your way
In the endless River of Chance and Change
And you woke the strange
Unknown longings that have no names,
But burn us all in their hidden flames,
Who shall say?

Life is a strange and a wayward thing:
We heard the bells of the Temples ring,
The married children, in passing, sing.
The month of marriage, the month of spring,
Was full of the breath of sunburnt flowers
That bloom in a fiercer light than ours,
And, under a sky more fiercely blue,
I came to you!

You told me tales of your vivid life
Where death was cruel and danger rife--
Of deep dark forests, of poisoned trees,
Of pains and passions that scorch and freeze,
Of southern noontides and eastern nights,
Where love grew frantic with strange delights,
While men were slaying and maidens danced,
Till I, who listened, lay still, entranced.
Then, swift as a swallow heading south,
I kissed your mouth!

One night when the plains were bathed in blood
From sunset light in a crimson flood,
We wandered under the young teak trees
Whose branches whined in the light night breeze;
You led me down to the water's brink,
"The Spring where the Panthers came to drink
At night; there is always water here
Be the season never so parched and sere."
Have we souls of beasts in the forms of men?
I fain would have tasted your life-blood then.

The night fell swiftly; this sudden land
Can never lend us a twilight strand
'Twixt the daylight shore and the ocean night,
But takes--as it gives--at once, the light.
We laid us down on the steep hillside,
While far below us wild peacocks cried,
And we sometimes heard, in the sunburnt grass,
The stealthy steps of the Jungle pass.
We listened; knew not whether they went
On love or hunger the more intent.
And under your kisses I hardly knew
Whether I loved or hated you.

But your words were flame and your kisses fire,
And who shall resist a strong desire?
Not I, whose life is a broken boat
On a sea of passions, adrift, afloat.
And whether I came in love or hate,
That I came to you was written by Fate
In every hue of the blood-red sky,
In every tone of the peacocks' cry.

While every gust of the Jungle night
Was fanning the flame you had set alight.
For these things have power to stir the blood
And compel us all to their own chance mood.
And to love or not we are no more free
Than a ripple to rise and leave the sea.

We are ever and always slaves of these,
Of the suns that scorch and the winds that freeze,
Of the faint sweet scents of the sultry air,
Of the half heard owl from the far off lair.
These chance things muster us ever. Compel
To the heights of Heaven, the depths of Hell.

Whether I love you? You do not ask
Nor waste yourself on the thankless task.
I give your kisses at least return,
What matter whether they freeze or burn.
I feel the strength of your fervent arms,
What matter whether it heals or harms.

You are wise; you take what the Gods have sent.
You ask no questions, but rest content
So I am with you to take your kiss,
And perhaps I value you more for this.
For this is Wisdom; to love, to live,
To take what Fate, or the Gods, may give,
To ask no question, to make no prayer,
To kiss the lips and caress the hair,
Speed passion's ebb as you greet its flow,--
To have,--to hold,--and,--in time,--let go!

And this is our Wisdom: we rest together
On the great lone hills in the storm-filled weather,
And watch the skies as they pale and burn,
The golden stars in their orbits turn,
While love is with us, and Time and Peace,
And life has nothing to give but these,
But, whether you love me, who shall say.
Or whether you, drifting down my way
In the great sad River of Chance and Change,
With your looks so weary and words so strange,
Lit my soul from some hidden flame
To a passionate longing without a name,
Who shall say?
Not I, who am but a broaken boat,
Content for a while to drift afloat
In the little noontide of love's delights
Between two Nights.





















Edgar-A-Guest-Thanksgiving

Edgar A. Guest - Thanksgiving

Gettin’ together to smile an’ rejoice, 
An’ eatin’ an’ laughin’ with folks of your choice; 
An’ kissin’ the girls an’ declarin’ that they 
Are growin’ more beautiful day after day; 
Chattin’ an’ braggin’ a bit with the men, 
Buildin’ the old family circle again; 
Livin’ the wholesome an’ old-fashioned cheer, 
Just for awhile at the end of the year. 

Greetings fly fast as we crowd through the door 
And under the old roof we gather once more 
Just as we did when the youngsters were small; 
Mother’s a little bit grayer, that’s all. 
Father’s a little bit older, but still 
Ready to romp an’ to laugh with a will. 
Here we are back at the table again 
Tellin’ our stories as women an’ men. 

Bowed are our heads for a moment in prayer; 
Oh, but we’re grateful an’ glad to be there. 
Home from the east land an’ home from the west, 
Home with the folks that are dearest an’ best. 
Out of the sham of the cities afar 
We’ve come for a time to be just what we are. 
Here we can talk of ourselves an’ be frank, 
Forgettin’ position an’ station an’ rank. 

Give me the end of the year an’ its fun 
When most of the plannin’ an’ toilin’ is done; 
Bring all the wanderers home to the nest, 
Let me sit down with the ones I love best, 
Hear the old voices still ringin’ with song, 
See the old faces unblemished by wrong, 
See the old table with all of its chairs 
An’ I’ll put soul in my Thanksgivin’ prayers.



















Henry-Lawson-The-Southerly-Buster

Henry Lawson - The Southerly Buster

There's a wind that blows out of the South in the drought,
And we pray for the touch of his breath
When siroccos come forth from the North-West and North,
Or in dead calms of fever and death.
With eyes glad and dim we should sing him a hymn,
For depression and death are his foes,
And he gives us new life for the bread-winning strife—
When the glorious Old Southerly blows. 
Old Southerly Buster! your forces you muster
Where seldom a wind bloweth twice,
And your ‘white-caps’ have hint of the snow caps, and glint of
The far-away barriers of ice.
No wind the wide sea on can sing such a poean
Or do the great work that you do;
Our own wind and only, from seas wild and lonely—
Old Southerly Buster!—To you! 

Oh, the city is baked, and its thirst is unslaked,
Though it swallows iced drinks by the score,
And the blurred sky is low and the air seems aglow
As if breezes would cool it no more.
We are watching all hands where the Post Office stands—
We are watching out hopefully too—
For a red light shall glower from the Post Office tower
When the Southerly Buster is due. 

The yachts run away at the end of the day
From the breakers commencing to comb,
For a few he may swamp in the health-giving romp
With the friendly Old Southerly home.
But he never drowns one, for the drowning is done
By the fools, or the reckless in sport;
And the alleys and slums shall be cooled when he comes
With the weary wind-jammers to port. 

Oh softly he plays through the city’s hot ways
To the beds where they’re calling ‘Come quick!’
He is gentle and mild round the feverish child,
And he cools the hot brow of the sick.
Clearing drought-hazy skies, up the North Coast he hies
Till the mouths of our rivers are fair—
And along the sea, too, he has good work to do,
For he takes the old timber-tubs there. 

’Tis a glorious mission, Old Sydney’s Physician!
Broom, Bucket, and Cloth of the East,
’Tis a breeze and a sprayer that answers our prayer,
And it’s free to the greatest and least.
The red-lamp’s a warning to drought and its scorning—
A sign to the city at large—
Hence! Headache and Worry! Despondency hurry!
Old Southerly Buster’s in charge 

Old Southerly Buster! your forces you muster
Where seldom a wind bloweth twice,
And your ‘white-caps’ have hint of the snow caps, and glint of
The far-away barriers of ice.
No wind the wide sea on can sing such a poean
Or do the great work that you do;
Our own wind and only, from seas wild and lonely—
Old Southerly Buster!—To you! 











Thomas-Doubleday-The-Snows-They-Melt-The-Soonest

Thomas Doubleday - The Snows They Melt The Soonest

O, the snow it melts the soonest when the winds begin to sing;
And the corn it ripens fastest when the frosts are setting in;
And when a woman tells me that my face she'll soon forget,
Before we part, I wad a crown, she's fain to follow't yet.
The snow it melts the soonest when the wind begins to sing;
And the swallow skims without a thought as long as it is spring;
But when spring goes, and winter blows, my lass, an ye'll be fain,
For all your pride, to follow me, were't cross the stormy main.
O, the snow it melts the soonest when the wind begins to sing;
The bee that flew when summer shined, in winter cannot sting;
I've seen a woman's anger melt between the night and morn,
And it's surely not a harder thing to tame a woman's scorn.
O, never say me farewell here -no farewell I'll receive,
For you shall set me to the stile, and kiss and take your leave;
But I'll stay here till the woodcock comes, and the martlet takes his wing,
Since the snow aye melts the soonest, lass, when the wind begins to sing.
























James-Whitcomb-Riley-Private-Theatricals

James Whitcomb Riley - Private Theatricals

A quite convincing axiom 
Is, 'Life is like a play'; 
For, turning back its pages some 
Few dog-eared years away, 
I find where I 
Committed my 
Love-tale--with brackets where to sigh. 

I feel an idle interest 
To read again the page; 
I enter, as a lover dressed, 
At twenty years of age, 
And play the part 
With throbbing heart, 
And all an actor's glowing art. 

And she who plays my Lady-love 
Excels!--Her loving glance 
Has power her audience to move-- 
I am her audience.-- 
Her acting tact, 
To tell the fact, 
'Brings down the house' in every act. 

And often we defy the curse 
Of storms and thunder-showers, 
To meet together and rehearse 
This little play of ours-- 
I think, when she 
'Makes love' to me, 
She kisses very naturally! 

. . . . . . 

Yes; it's convincing--rather-- 
That 'Life is like a play': 
I am playing 'Heavy Father' 
In a 'Screaming Farce' to-day, 
That so 'brings down 
The house,' I frown, 
And fain would 'ring the curtain down.'



















Sara-Teasdale-November

Sara Teasdale - November

The world is tired, the year is old, 
The little leaves are glad to die, 
The wind goes shivering with cold 
Among the rushes dry.

Our love is dying like the grass, 
And we who kissed grow coldly kind, 
Half glad to see our poor love pass 
Like leaves along the wind. 


















Thomas-Hood-NO

Thomas Hood - NO!

 No sun—no moon!
        No morn—no noon—
No dawn—
        No sky—no earthly view—
        No distance looking blue—
No road—no street—no “t’other side the way”—
        No end to any Row—
        No indications where the Crescents go—
        No top to any steeple—
No recognitions of familiar people—
        No courtesies for showing ‘em—
        No knowing ‘em!
No traveling at all—no locomotion,
No inkling of the way—no notion—
        “No go”—by land or ocean—
        No mail—no post—
        No news from any foreign coast—
No park—no ring—no afternoon gentility—
        No company—no nobility—
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
   No comfortable feel in any member—
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,
        November!













William-Butler-Yeats-Never-give-all-the-heart

William Butler Yeats - Never give all the heart

Never give all the heart, for love 
Will hardly seem worth thinking of 
To passionate women if it seem 
Certain, and they never dream 
That it fades out from kiss to kiss; 
For everything that’s lovely is 
But a brief, dreamy, kind delight. 
O never give the heart outright, 
For they, for all smooth lips can say, 
Have given their hearts up to the play. 
And who could play it well enough
If deaf and dumb and blind with love? 
He that made this knows all the cost, 
For he gave all his heart and lost.



















William-Blake-The-Mental-Traveller

William Blake - The Mental Traveller

I travelled through a land of men, 
A land of men and women too, 
And heard and saw such dreadful things 
As cold earth wanderers never knew. 

For there the babe is born in joy 
That was begotten in dire woe, 
Just as we reap in joy the fruit 
Which we in bitter tears did sow; 

And if the babe is born a boy 
He’s given to a woman old, 
Who nails him down upon a rock, 
Catches his shrieks in cups of gold. 

She binds iron thorns around his head, 
And pierces both his hands and feet, 
And cuts his heart out of his side 
To make it feel both cold & heat. 

Her fingers number every nerve 
Just as a miser counts his gold; 
She lives upon his shrieks and cries— 
And she grows young as he grows old, 

Till he becomes a bleeding youth 
And she becomes a virgin bright; 
Then he rends up his manacles 
And pins her down for his delight. 

He plants himself in all her nerves 
Just as a husbandman his mould, 
And she bcomes his dwelling-place 
And garden, frutiful seventyfold. 

An aged shadow soon he fades, 
Wandering round and earthly cot, 
Full filled all with gems and gold 
Which he by industry had got. 

And these are the gems of the human soul: 
The rubies and pearls of a lovesick eye, 
The countless gold of an aching heart, 
The martyr’s groan, and the lover’s sigh. 

They are his meat, they are his drink: 
He feeds the beggar and the poor 
And the wayfaring traveller; 
For ever open is his door. 

His grief is their eternal joy, 
They make the roofs and walls to ring— 
Till from the fire on the hearth 
Alittle female babe does spring! 

And she is all of solid fire 
And gems and gold, that none his hand 
Dares stretch to touch her baby form, 
Or wrap her in his swaddling-band. 

But she comes to the man she loves, 
If young or old, or rich or poor; 
They soon drive out the aged host, 
A beggar at another’s door. 

He wanders weeping far away 
Until some other take him in; 
Oft blind and age-bent, sore distressed, 
Until he can a maiden win. 

And to allay his freezing age 
The poor man takes her in his arms: 
The cottage fades before his sight, 
The garden and its lovely charms; 

The guests are scattered through the land 
(For the eye altering, alters all); 
The senses roll themselves in fear, 
And the flat earth becomes a ball, 

The stars, sun, moon, all shrink away— 
A desert vast without a bound, 
And nothing left to eat or drink 
And a dark desert all around. 

The honey of her infant lips, 
The bread and wine of her sweet smile, 
The wild game of her roving eye 
Does him to infancy beguile. 

For as he eats and drinks he grows 
Younger and younger every day; 
And on the desert wild they both 
Wander in terror and dismay. 

Like the wild stag she flees away; 
Her fear plants many a thicket wild, 
While he pursues her night and day, 
By various arts of love beguiled. 

By various arts of love and hate, 
Till the wide desert planted o’er 
With labyrinths of wayward love, 
Where roams the lion, wolf and boar, 

Till he becomes a wayward babe 
And she a weeping woman old. 
Then many a lover wanders here, 
The sun and stars are nearer rolled, 

The trees bring forth sweet ecstasy 
To all who in the desert roam, 
Till many a city there is built, 
And many a pleasant shepherd’s home. 

But when they find the frowning babe 
Terror strikes through the region wide; 
They cry, ‘The Babe! the Babe is born!’ 
And flee away on every side. 

For who dare touch the frowning form 
His arm is withered to its root, 
Lions, boars, wolves, all howling flee 
And every tree does shed its fruit; 

And none can touch that frowning form, 
Except it be a woman old; 
She nails him down upon the rock, 
And all is done as I have told. 




















James-Whitcomb-Riley-A-Man-Of-Many-Parts

James Whitcomb Riley - A Man Of Many Parts

It was a man of many parts,
Who in his coffer mind
Had stored the Classics and the Arts
And Sciences combined;
The purest gems of poesy
Came flashing from his pen--
The wholesome truths of History
He gave his fellow men.

He knew the stars from 'Dog' to Mars;
And he could tell you, too,
Their distances--as though the cars
Had often checked him through--
And time 'twould take to reach the sun,
Or by the 'Milky Way,'
Drop in upon the moon, or run
The homeward trip, or stay.

With Logic at his fingers' ends,
Theology in mind,
He often entertained his friends
Until they died resigned;
And with inquiring mind intent
Upon Alchemic arts
A dynamite experiment--
. . . . . . .
A man of many parts! 

















Henry-Lawson-The-Light-on-the-Wreck

Henry Lawson - The Light on the Wreck

Out there by the rocks, at the end of the bank,
In the mouth of the river, the Wanderer sank.
She is resting where meet the blue water and green,
And only her masts and her funnel are seen;
And you see, when is fading the sunset’s last fleck,
On her foremast a lantern—a light on a wreck. 
’Tis a light on a wreck, warning ships to beware
Of the drowned iron hull of the Wanderer there;
And the ships that come in and go out in the night
Keep a careful lookout for the Wanderer’s light.
There are rules for the harbour and rules for the wave;
But all captains steer clear of the Wanderer’s grave. 

And the stories of strong lives that ended in wrecks
Might be likened to lights over derelict decks;
Like the light where, in sight of the streets of the town,
In the mouth of the channel the Wanderer went down.
Keep a watch from the desk, as they watch from the deck;
Keep a watch from your home for the light on the wreck. 

But the lights on the wrecks since creation began
Have been shining in vain for the vagabond clan.
They will never take warning, they will not beware,
For they hold for their mottoes ‘What matter?’ ‘What care?’
And they sail without compass, they sail without check,
Till they steer to their grave ’neath a light on a wreck. 














Edgar-A-Guest-Keep-Going

Edgar A. Guest - Keep Going

When Things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low and debts are high,
And you want to Smile but have to sigh.
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest, if you must, but don't you quit.

Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As everyone of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about,
When he might have won if he'd stuck it out,
Don't give up though the pace seems slow,
You might succeed with another blow.

Often the struggler has given up,
When he might captured the victor's cup.
And he learned too late, when the night slipped down,
How close he was to the golden crown,

Success is failure turned inside out,
The silver tint of clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems afar,
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit,
It's when things seem worst that you mustn't quit.











Michael-Field-Iris

Michael Field - Iris

THE IRIS was yellow, the moon was pale,
  In the air it was stiller than snow,
There was even light through the vale,
      But a vaporous sheet
      Clung about my feet,        
  And I dared no further go.
I had passed the pond, I could see the stile,
The path was plain for more than a mile,
  Yet I dared no further go.

The iris-beds shone in my face, when, whist!        
  A noiseless music began to blow,
A music that moved through the mist,
      That had not begun,
      Would never be done,—
  With that music I must go:        
And I found myself in the heart of the tune,
Wheeling around to the whirr of the moon,
  With the sheets of the mist below.

In my hands how warm were the little hands,
  Strange, little hands that I did not know:        
I did not think of the elvan bands,
      Nor of anything
      In that whirling ring—
  Here a cock began to crow!
The little hands dropped that had clung so tight,        
And I saw again by the pale dawnlight
  The iris-heads in a row.












Paul-Laurence-Dunbar-Discovered

Paul Laurence Dunbar - Discovered

SEEN you down at chu'ch las' night, 
Nevah min', Miss Lucy. 
What I mean? oh, dat 's all right, 
Nevah min', Miss Lucy. 
You was sma't ez sma't could be, 
But you could n't hide f'om me. 
Ain't I got two eyes to see! 
Nevah min', Miss Lucy. 

Guess you thought you's awful keen; 
Nevah min', Miss Lucy. 
Evahthing you done, I seen; 
Nevah min', Miss Lucy. 
Seen him tek yo' ahm jes' so, 
When he got outside de do'- 
Oh, I know dat man's yo' beau! 
Nevah min', Miss Lucy. 

Say now, honey, wha'd he say?- 
Nevah min', Miss Lucy! 
Keep yo' secrets-dat's yo' way- 
Nevah min', Miss Lucy. 
Won't tell me an' I'm yo' pal!- 
I'm gwine tell his othah gal,- 
Know huh, too, huh name is Sal; 
Nevah min', Miss Lucy! 












Robert-Southwell-The-Burning-Babe2

Robert Southwell - The Burning Babe

As I in hoary winter’s night stood shivering in the snow, 
Surpris’d I was with sudden heat which made my heart to glow; 
And lifting up a fearful eye to view what fire was near, 
A pretty Babe all burning bright did in the air appear; 
Who, scorched with excessive heat, such floods of tears did shed 
As though his floods should quench his flames which with his tears were fed. 
“Alas!” quoth he, “but newly born, in fiery heats I fry, 
Yet none approach to warm their hearts or feel my fire but I! 
My faultless breast the furnace is, the fuel wounding thorns, 
Love is the fire, and sighs the smoke, the ashes shame and scorns; 
The fuel Justice layeth on, and Mercy blows the coals, 
The metal in this furnace wrought are men’s defiled souls, 
For which, as now on fire I am to work them to their good, 
      So will I melt into a bath to wash them in my blood.” 
      With this he vanish’d out of sight and swiftly shrunk away, 
      And straight I called unto mind that it was Christmas day.











Robert-W-Service-The-Ballad-of-the-Black-Fox-Skin

Robert W. Service - The Ballad of the Black Fox Skin

I

There was Claw-fingered Kitty and Windy Ike living the life of shame,
When unto them in the Long, Long Night came the man-who-had-no-name;
Bearing his prize of a black fox pelt, out of the Wild he came.

His cheeks were blanched as the flume-head foam when the brown spring freshets flow;
Deep in their dark, sin-calcined pits were his sombre eyes aglow;
They knew him far for the fitful man who spat forth blood on the snow.

"Did ever you see such a skin?" quoth he; "there's nought in the world so fine--
Such fullness of fur as black as the night, such lustre, such size, such shine;
It's life to a one-lunged man like me; it's London, it's women, it's wine.

"The Moose-hides called it the devil-fox, and swore that no man could kill;
That he who hunted it, soon or late, must surely suffer some ill;
But I laughed at them and their old squaw-tales. Ha! Ha! I'm laughing still.

"For look ye, the skin--it's as smooth as sin, and black as the core of the Pit.
By gun or by trap, whatever the hap, I swore I would capture it;
By star and by star afield and afar, I hunted and would not quit.

"For the devil-fox, it was swift and sly, and it seemed to fleer at me;
I would wake in fright by the camp-fire light, hearing its evil glee;
Into my dream its eyes would gleam, and its shadow would I see.

"It sniffed and ran from the ptarmigan I had poisoned to excess;
Unharmed it sped from my wrathful lead ('twas as if I shot by guess);
Yet it came by night in the stark moonlight to mock at my weariness.

"I tracked it up where the mountains hunch like the vertebrae of the world;
I tracked it down to the death-still pits where the avalanche is hurled;
From the glooms to the sacerdotal snows, where the carded clouds are curled.

"From the vastitudes where the world protrudes through clouds like seas up-shoaled,
I held its track till it led me back to the land I had left of old--
The land I had looted many moons. I was weary and sick and cold.

"I was sick, soul-sick, of the futile chase, and there and then I swore
The foul fiend fox might scathless go, for I would hunt no more;
Then I rubbed mine eyes in a vast surprise--it stood by my cabin door.

"A rifle raised in the wraith-like gloom, and a vengeful shot that sped;
A howl that would thrill a cream-faced corpse-- and the demon fox lay dead. . . .
Yet there was never a sign of wound, and never a drop he bled.

"So that was the end of the great black fox, and here is the prize I've won;
And now for a drink to cheer me up--I've mushed since the early sun;
We'll drink a toast to the sorry ghost of the fox whose race is run."

II

Now Claw-fingered Kitty and Windy Ike, bad as the worst were they;
In their road-house down by the river-trail they waited and watched for prey;
With wine and song they joyed night long, and they slept like swine by day.

For things were done in the Midnight Sun that no tongue will ever tell;
And men there be who walk earth-free, but whose names are writ in hell--
Are writ in flames with the guilty names of Fournier and Labelle.

Put not your trust in a poke of dust would ye sleep the sleep of sin;
For there be those who would rob your clothes ere yet the dawn comes in;
And a prize likewise in a woman's eyes is a peerless black fox skin.

Put your faith in the mountain cat if you lie within his lair;
Trust the fangs of the mother-wolf, and the claws of the lead-ripped bear;
But oh, of the wiles and the gold-tooth smiles of a dance-hall wench beware!

Wherefore it was beyond all laws that lusts of man restrain,
A man drank deep and sank to sleep never to wake again;
And the Yukon swallowed through a hole the cold corpse of the slain.

III

The black fox skin a shadow cast from the roof nigh to the floor;
And sleek it seemed and soft it gleamed, and the woman stroked it o'er;
And the man stood by with a brooding eye, and gnashed his teeth and swore.

When thieves and thugs fall out and fight there's fell arrears to pay;
And soon or late sin meets its fate, and so it fell one day
That Claw-fingered Kitty and Windy Ike fanged up like dogs at bay.

"The skin is mine, all mine," she cried; "I did the deed alone."
"It's share and share with a guilt-yoked pair", he hissed in a pregnant tone;
And so they snarled like malamutes over a mildewed bone.

And so they fought, by fear untaught, till haply it befell
One dawn of day she slipped away to Dawson town to sell
The fruit of sin, this black fox skin that had made their lives a hell.

She slipped away as still he lay, she clutched the wondrous fur;
Her pulses beat, her foot was fleet, her fear was as a spur;
She laughed with glee, she did not see him rise and follow her.

The bluffs uprear and grimly peer far over Dawson town;
They see its lights a blaze o' nights and harshly they look down;
They mock the plan and plot of man with grim, ironic frown.

The trail was steep; 'twas at the time when swiftly sinks the snow;
All honey-combed, the river ice was rotting down below;
The river chafed beneath its rind with many a mighty throe.

And up the swift and oozy drift a woman climbed in fear,
Clutching to her a black fox fur as if she held it dear;
And hard she pressed it to her breast--then Windy Ike drew near.

She made no moan--her heart was stone--she read his smiling face,
And like a dream flashed all her life's dark horror and disgrace;
A moment only--with a snarl he hurled her into space.

She rolled for nigh an hundred feet; she bounded like a ball;
From crag to crag she carromed down through snow and timber fall; . . .
A hole gaped in the river ice; the spray flashed--that was all.

A bird sang for the joy of spring, so piercing sweet and frail;
And blinding bright the land was dight in gay and glittering mail;
And with a wondrous black fox skin a man slid down the trail.

IV

A wedge-faced man there was who ran along the river bank,
Who stumbled through each drift and slough, and ever slipped and sank,
And ever cursed his Maker's name, and ever "hooch" he drank.

He travelled like a hunted thing, hard harried, sore distrest;
The old grandmother moon crept out from her cloud-quilted nest;
The aged mountains mocked at him in their primeval rest.

Grim shadows diapered the snow; the air was strangely mild;
The valley's girth was dumb with mirth, the laughter of the wild;
The still, sardonic laughter of an ogre o'er a child.

The river writhed beneath the ice; it groaned like one in pain,
And yawning chasms opened wide, and closed and yawned again;
And sheets of silver heaved on high until they split in twain.

From out the road-house by the trail they saw a man afar
Make for the narrow river-reach where the swift cross-currents are;
Where, frail and worn, the ice is torn and the angry waters jar.

But they did not see him crash and sink into the icy flow;
They did not see him clinging there, gripped by the undertow,
Clawing with bleeding finger-nails at the jagged ice and snow.

They found a note beside the hole where he had stumbled in:
"Here met his fate by evil luck a man who lived in sin,
And to the one who loves me least I leave this black fox skin."

And strange it is; for, though they searched the river all around,
No trace or sign of black fox skin was ever after found;
Though one man said he saw the tread of HOOFS deep in the ground. 












James-Whitcomb-Riley-At-Sea

James Whitcomb Riley - At Sea

O we go down to sea in ships -
But Hope remains behind,
And Love, with laughter on his lips,
And Peace, of passive mind;
While out across the deeps of night,
With lifted sails of prayer,
We voyage off in quest of light,
Nor find it anywhere.

O Thou who wroughtest earth and sea,
Yet keepest from our eyes
The shores of an eternity
In calms of Paradise,
Blow back upon our foolish quest
With all the driving rain
Of blinding tears and wild unrest,
And waft us home again.













Emily-Dickinson-As-imperceptibly-as-Grief

Emily Dickinson - As imperceptibly as Grief

As imperceptibly as Grief
The Summer lapsed away—
Too imperceptible at last
To seem like Perfidy—
A Quietness distilled
As Twilight long begun,
Or Nature spending with herself
Sequestered Afternoon—
The Dusk drew earlier in—
The Morning foreign shone—
A courteous, yet harrowing Grace,
As Guest, that would be gone—
And thus, without a Wing
Or service of a Keel
Our Summer made her light escape
Into the Beautiful. 










Thomas-Moore-An-Argument

Thomas Moore - An Argument

I've oft been told by learned friars,
That wishing and the crime are one,
And Heaven punishes desires
As much as if the deed were done.

If wishing damns us, you and I
Are damned to all our heart's content;
Come, then, at least we may enjoy
Some pleasure for our punishment! 












Henry-van-Dyke-America-for-Me

Henry van Dyke - America for Me

'Tis fine to see the Old World, and travel up and down
Among the famous palaces and cities of renown
To admire the crumbly castles and the statues of the kings,
But now I think I've had enough of antiquated things.
So it's home again, and home again, America for me!
My heart is turning home again, and there I long to be
In the land of youth and freedom beyond the ocean bars
Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars.
Oh London is a man's town, there's power in the air
And Paris is a woman's town, with flowers in her hair;
And it's sweet to dream in Venice, and it's great to study Rome;
But when it comes to living there is no place like home.
I like the German fir-woods, in green battalions drilled
I like the gardens of Versailles with flashing fountains filled;
But, oh, to take your hand, my dear, and ramble for a day
In the friendly western woodland where Nature has her way!
I know that Europe's wonderful, yet something seems to lack: The Past is too much with her, and the people looking back. But the glory of the Present is to make the Future free,
We love our land for what she is and what she is to be.
Oh, it's home again, and home again, America for me!
I want a ship that's westward bound to plough the rolling sea,
To the blessed Land of Room Enough beyond the ocean bars,
Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars.














Short Poetry Collection 150




Links:


Billboard Hot 100 - Letras de Músicas | Song Lyrics - Songtext - Testo Canzone - Paroles Musique - 歌曲歌词 - 歌詞 - كلمات الاغنية - песни Текст

Educação Infantil - Vídeos, Jogos e Atividades Educativas para crianças de 4 à 11 anos

Língua Portuguesa e Atualidades

Arte e Estética

Santa Catarina - Conheça seu Estado

São Paulo - Conheça seu Estado

Paraná - Conheça seu Estado

Mato Grosso do Sul - Conheça seu Estado

Salmos - Capítulo 23 - Bíblia Online

O Diário de Anne Frank

Capítulo 2 - Macunaíma - Mário de Andrade

Dom Casmurro - Machado de Assis

Quincas Borba - Machado de Assis

Memórias Póstumas de Brás Cubas - Machado de Assis

O Triste Fim de Policarpo Quaresma - Lima Barreto

Mein Kampf - Adolf Hitler

Cinco Minutos - José de Alencar

02. Cronologia da Terra - História em 1 Minuto

TOP 10: Poesia - Poemas em Português, Espanhol, francês e inglês


Esta Velha - Álvaro de Campos (Heterónimo de Fernando Pessoa)

Espasmo - Mario de Andrade

Exaltação da Paz - Mario de Andrade

Uma lembrança - Emília Freitas

Contemplações - Cordélia Sylvia

Morte de Raquel - Madalena da Glória

Canção do exílio - Gonçalves Dias

Sóror Maria do Céu - Sobre as palavras do padre Vieira

Prece - Natalina Cordeiro

A Raposa e as Uvas - Manuel Maria Barbosa du Bocage

Luís Vaz de Camões - Apolo e as Nove Musas Descantando

Se tu viesses ver-me - Florbela Espanca

Que falta nesta cidade - Gregório de Matos

Flor da Mocidade - Machado de Assis

Velhas Árvores - Olavo Bilac

Ismalia - Alphonsus de Guimaraens

A Esperança - Augusto dos Anjos

Song of myself - Walt Whitman

Bonsoir - Amado Nervo

La Géante - Charles Baudelaire

Languidez - Florbela Espanca

O Fogo que na Branda Cera Ardia - Soneto 07 - Luís Vaz de Camões

Lésbia- Broquéis - João da Cruz e Sousa

A criança - Os Escravos - Castro Alves

O morcego- Augusto dos Anjos - Eu e Outras Poesia

TOP 30: PDF para Download - Domínio Público


Livros em PDF para Download

O Diário de Anne Frank - Edição Definitiva - Anne Frank

Mein Kampf - Adolf Hitler - Download PDF Livro Online

345 - Artur Azevedo - PDF

Eterna Mágoa - Augusto dos Anjos - Download

A Brasileira de Prazins - Camilo Castelo Branco - Download

A boa vista - Castro Alves - PDF

Charles Baudelaire

Paraísos artificiais - Charles Baudelaire - PDF

A Poesia Interminável - Cruz e Sousa - Livro Online

A Divina Comédia - Dante Alighieri - Livro Online

A capital - Eça de Queiros - PDF

À Margem Da História - Euclides da Cunha - PDF

A Hora do Diabo e outros contos - Fernando Pessoa - Livros em PDF para Download

Fiódor Mikhailovitch Dostoiévsk - Fedor Dostoievski - Livros em PDF para Download

Uma Criatura Dócil - Fiódor Mikhailovitch Dostoiévsk - Fedor Dostoievski

Franz Kafka - PDF

A Metamorfose - Franz Kafka - PDF

Gustave Flaubert em português - Livros em PDF para Download

Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert - PDF

Ilíada - Homero - Download

Dublinenses - James Joyce - Download

A Abadia De Northanger - Jane Austen - Download PDF Livro Online

A Alma do Lázaro - José de Alencar

A Morte de Ivan Ilitch - Leon Tolstói - Download

Machado de Assis

O Alienista

Esaú e Jacó

Dom Casmurro

Memórias Póstumas de Brás Cubas

Quincas Borba

A Carteira - Machado de Assis - PDF Download Livro Online

Michel de Montaigne - PDF Download Livro Online

Os Ensaios - Michel de Montaigne - PDF

A escrava que não é Isaura - Mário de Andrade - PDF Download Livro Online

Marcel Proust - Download PDF Livro Online

No Caminho de Swann – Em Busca do Tempo Perdido – Vol.1 - Marcel Proust

Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra - Download PDF Livro Online

Don Quixote. Vol. 1 - Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

A Defesa Nacional - Olavo Bilac - PDF Download Livro Online

14 de Julho na roça - Raul Pompeia - PDF Download Livro Online

Cartas Chilenas - Tomás Antônio Gonzaga - PDF Download Livro Online

Victor Hugo - Victor Hugo - PDF Download Livro Online

Mrs. Dalloway - Virginia Woolf - PDF

William Shakespeare

A Comédia dos Erros - William-Shakespeare - Livros em PDF para Download

Bíblia Sagrada - João Ferreira de Almeida - Bíblia

Bíblia Sagrada - Católica

Bucólicas - Virgilio

TOP 30: Billboard - Letras de Músicas - Song Lyrics - Songtext


Today - Brad Paisley

Kids - OneRepublic

Ain't My Fault - Zara Larsson

Million Reasons - Lady Gaga

PPAP (Pen-Pineapple-Apple-Pen) - Piko-Taro

All Time Low - Jon Bellion

Don't Wanna Know - Maroon 5 Featuring Kendrick Lamar

Love Me Now - John Legend

24K Magic - Bruno Mars

GooFresh Eyes - Andy Grammer - Song Lyrics

Wanna Be That Song - Brett Eldredge - Song Lyrics

Song For Another Time - Old Dominion - Song Lyrics

Goosebumps - Travis Scott - Song Lyrics

LIFTED - CL - Song Lyrics

Capsize - Frenship & Emily Warren - Song Lyrics

Don't Touch My Hair - Solange Featuring Sampha - Song Lyrics

Mercy - Shawn Mendes - Letras de Música

Juju On That Beat (TZ Anthem) - Zay Hilfigerrr & Zayion McCall - Letras de Música

Hold Up - Beyonce - Letras de Música

HandClap - Fitz And The Tantrums - Songtext

Key To The Streets - YFN Lucci feat Migos & Trouble - Letras de Música

Wishing - DJ Drama feat Chris Brown, Skeme & Lyquin - Letras de Música

Too Much Sauce - DJ ESCO feat Future & Lil Uzi Vert - Letras de Música

All We Know - The Chainsmokers feat Phoebe Ryan - Letras de Música

Sleep Without You - Brett Young - Letras de Música

A Little More Summertime - Jason Aldean - Letras de Música

I Know Somebody - LoCash - Letras de Música

False Alarm - The Weeknd - Letras de Música

Rock On - Tucker Beathard - Letras de Música

Say It - Flume feat Tove Lo - Letras de Música

This Town - Niall Horan - Letras de Música

Scars To Your Beautiful - Alessia Cara - Song Lyrics

I Met A Girl - William Michael Morgan - Song Lyrics

Perfect Illusion - Lady Gaga - Song Lyrics

Pick Up The Phone - Young Thug And Travis Scott Featuring Quavo - Song Lyrics

Forever Country - Artists Of Then, Now & Forever - Song Lyrics

In The Name Of Love - Martin Garrix & Bebe Rexha - Song Lyrics

OOOUUU - Young M.A - Song Lyrics

Black Beatles - Rae Sremmurd feat Gucci Mane - Letras de Música

Starboy - The Weeknd feat Daft Punk - Song Lyrics

Side To Side - Ariana Grande feat Nicki Minaj - Song Lyrics

My Way - Calvin Harris - Song Lyrics

The Greatest - Sia feat Kendrick Lamar - Song Lyrics

Don't Mind - Kent Jones - Song Lyrics

Can't Stop The Feeling! - Justin Timberlake - Song Lyrics

This Is What You Came - Calvin Harris Ft. Rihanna - Song Lyrics

Cranes In The Sky - Solange - Song Lyrics

Sit Still, Look Pretty - Daya - Song Lyrics

May We All - Florida Georgia Line feat Tim McGraw

X - 21 Savage & Metro Boomin feat Future - Song Lyrics

Caroline - Amine - Song Lyrics

Blue Ain't Your Color - Keith Urban - Song Lyrics

Fade - Kanye West - Song Lyrics

TOP 60: Conheça seu Estado - História e Geografia


Mesorregião Serrana (SC)

Sul Catarinense (Mesorregião)

Vale do Itajaí (Mesorregião)

A história dos povos indígenas (UP)

Rio de Janeiro - Representação e Localização

O município e sua administração (RJ)

O clima no estado de São Paulo

Áreas de preservação no estado de São Paulo

A vegetação atual do estado de São Paulo

Formações florestais do estado de São Paulo

Vegetação nativa do estado de São Paulo entre 1500 a 2015

A história dos povos indígenas (PR)

Vegetação nativa do estado do Paraná

Formações florestais do estado do Paraná

A vegetação atual no estado do Paraná

Áreas de preservação do estado do Paraná

Biomas brasileiros

Natureza e condições ambientais do Mato Grosso do Sul

O crescimento populacional no estado de Mato Grosso do Sul

A população atual do estado de Mato Grosso do Sul

Os ciclos da economia do Mato Grosso do Sul

O Memorial de Iwo Jima

Não se renega o berço

Serra Pelada

Cortadores de cana

Uma morada para cada tempo e lugar

Pincel e tinta também imortalizam o espaço urbano

Espaço interno e design

A arte como registro histórico

A arte na Mídia

Rompendo com os padrões preestabelecidos

Apelido - Jogos para Crianças - Atividades Educativas Ensino Fundamental

Família - Jogos para Crianças - Atividades Educativas Ensino Fundamental

Frutas - Jogos para Crianças - Atividades Educativas Ensino Fundamental

Atividades Educativas Ensino Fundamental - Aprendendo sobre o Dinheiro

Curso de Inglês em 2 Horas - Aula 02 / 20 (Nível Básico)

Curso de Espanhol em 2 Horas - Aula 02 / 20 (Nível Básico)

Revisão de Inglês em 2 Horas - Aula 02 / 20 (Básico e Intermediário)

Progress 4GL - 0102 - Progress DCA - Parte 01

02-38 - SAP Business All-In-One Values and Benefits

Lima Barreto - Quase ela deu o sim, mas...

Esaú e Jacó - Machado de Assis

Diva - José de Alencar

A Dívida - Artur de Azevedo

Luís Soares - Contos Fluminenses e Histórias da Meia-Noite - 01 - Machado de Assis

Singularidades de uma rapariga loura, parte 2 - Contos de Eça de Queirós

Um Club da Má Língua - Fiódor Dostoiévski

Casa Velha - Machado de Assis

Amor de Perdição - Camilo Castelo Branco

À Margem da História - Euclides da Cunha

A Tempestade; Morte de Iracema; O Pampa - Eugênio Werneck - Antologia Brasileira

Euclides da Cunha - Os Sertões - 02 / 49

Machado de Assis - O Alienista - 02 / 09

Lima Barreto - O Triste Fim de Policarpo Quaresma - 02 / 15

Machado de Assis - A Mão e a Luva - 02 / 19

Raul Pompeia - O Ateneu - 02 / 12

Olavo Bilac - Contos para Velhos - 02 / 16

José de Alencar - Cinco Minutos - 02 / 10

Demóstenes - Oração da Coroa - Parte 2

Lima Barreto - Contos - 02 / 20

Gênesis - Bíblia - 02 / 10

William Shakespeare - Hamlet - 02 / 05

Jane Austen - Pride and Prejudice - 02 / 61

William Shakespeare - Romeo and Juliet - 01 / 05

TOP 50: BLOG by Sanderlei Silveira


Biomas brasileiros - Santa Catarina - Conheça seu Estado (História e Geografia)

Idade das Religiões - História em 1 Minuto

As festas populares no estado de São Paulo - SP

O tropeirismo no estado do Paraná - PR

Pantanal – Patrimônio Natural da Humanidade - MS

Prédios mais altos do Mundo e do Brasil (Atualizado até 10/2016)

Os símbolos do estado do Rio de Janeiro - RJ

Poesia - Sanderlei Silveira

Canção do exílio - Gonçalves Dias

How Do I Love Thee? - Sonnet 43 - Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The Road Not Taken - Robert Frost - Poetry in English

24K Magic - Bruno Mars - Letra Música

POVO E RAÇA - Mein Kampf (Minha luta) - Adolf Hitler

Macunaíma - Mário de Andrade

Tendências de mercado - Economia em 1 Minuto

O navio negreiro - Os Escravos - Castro Alves

Antífona - Broquéis - João da Cruz e Sousa

Euclides da Cunha - Os Sertões (Áudio Livro)

A aia - Contos de Eça de Queirós

Diva - José de Alencar - Audiobook

Amor é fogo que arde sem se ver - Sonetos - Poemas de Amor - Luís Vaz de Camões

Versos íntimos - Augusto dos Anjos - Eu e Outras Poesias

Curso de Espanhol Online - Grátis e Completo

Curso de Inglês Online - Grátis e Completo

O Diário de Anne Frank

Casa Velha – Machado de Assis - Livros em PDF para Download (Domínio Público)

Introduction to Design Thinking with SAP - SAP - Course Free Online

Totvs - Datasul - Treinamento Online (Gratuito)

Mitología Griega - Historia en 1 Minuto

Religion - Ancient History - History in 1 Minute

Salmos 22 - Bíblia Online

Olavo Bilac - Contos para Velhos - Áudio Livro

A Doença do Fabrício - Contos - Artur de Azevedo

Contos - Lima Barreto - Áudio Livro - Audiobook

Jane Austen - Pride and Prejudice - AudioBook

Material de apoio para Pais e Professores - Educação Infantil - Nível 1 (crianças entre 4 a 6 anos)

Sala de Aula - Educação Infantil - Nível 2 (crianças entre 5 a 7 anos)

Brincadeira - Educação Infantil - Nível 3 (crianças entre 6 a 8 anos)

Idioma Português - Educação Infantil - Nível 4 (crianças entre 7 a 9 anos)

Rio São Francisco - Educação Infantil - Nível 5 (crianças entre 8 a 10 anos)

Livros - Educação Infantil - Nível 6 (crianças entre 9 a 11 anos)

MISS DOLLAR - Machado de Assis

Quincas Borba - Machado de Assis

Crisálidas - Poesia - Machado de Assis

TU SERÁS FELIZ, BENTINHO - Dom Casmurro

O ALIENISTA - Papéis Avulsos

EMBARGOS DE TERCEIRO - A Mão e a Luva

Tu, só tu, puro amor - Teatro - Machado de Assis

Cartas Fluminenses - Crônica - Machado de Assis

Helena - Machado de Assis

JOGO PERIGOSO - Memórias Póstumas de Brás Cubas - Machado de Assis

MELHOR DE DESCER QUE DE SUBIR - Esaú e Jacó - Machado de Assis


No hay comentarios.:

Publicar un comentario