—Thus I sang the fields of change, the flocks of self,/While Tsar Trump thundered war across a continent...
Virgil
Bucolic III
Gentle, the fields, slowly, eating the bones,/Blood drinking, men upon them, new, compete,/Goat bone, sheep blood too, gently now and slow...
Bucolic II
the wand of sage Wergilius/turns many a magic trick...
The Death of Virgil
Phoebus descends on Megara, beats down/the crops with his coming...
Bucolic I
Tityrus lounges in the shade,/Bees lullaby the sleepy glade,/The reed sings soft, soft as the grass—/Then Meliboeus comes to pass...
On Reading the Classics
I read Homer and have a thought/Perhaps that Plato also had...
An Ode on Facebook
You who enjoy the famed pastoral form/Might like this ode on Facebook, blue and warm...
