gri_2003_m_46_b03_f10_036
- Max. dissimilarity: 0.05
- Mean dissimilarity: 0.024
- Image votes: 0.0
Transcribers
- 65825047 - nick_butler
- WINNER - 66016980 - ssalinas_00
- 66119796 - not-logged-in-9ebc42294a740febb79a
- 66198286 - Missybee35
- 66248573 - 2416837397
- 66355015 - not-logged-in-75ccf40c48cb3360d99d
65825047 - nick_butler
NOCTURNAL SONNET FOR SYLVIAIs the moon, mild in the mist,
A huntress with a heart of ice,
A prison of comet craters,
An orb for obvious lovers?
Poets emamoured of Phoebus
Criticise his lunar sister:
And astronomers allude
To lack of verdure in the airless vales.
What vow did Verlaine overhear,
What lamp was lit for Verlaine?
That he praised Diana's speed?
For me the moon is a coin
On the counter of the night
Buying dreams of Sylvia.
FLORAL SONNET FOR SYLVIA
The tawny bouquet on the table,
Balanced on a crystal axle,
Is the crest of autumn, ripe
Like a Venetian pastoral.
Moister flashes in the petals
Overlapping complex wheels:
Unruly silhouetted shapes,
Dark on the wall, resemble owls.
But their beauty is not final
Lacking that lyrical
Sense of order which your hands
Communicate to willing blooms:
Would you were here to double
My pleasures in. the sensual.
25 X1 1950
WINNER - 66016980 - ssalinas_00
NOCTURNAL SONNET FOR SYLVIAIs the moon, mild in the mist,
A huntress with a heart of ice,
A prison of comet craters,
An orb for obvious lovers?
Poets enamoured of Phoebus
Criticise his lunar sister:
And astronomers allude
To lack of verdure in the airless vales.
What vow did Verlaine overhear,
What lamp was lit for Verlaine?
That he praised Diana's speed?
For me the moon is a coin
On the counter of the night
Buying dreams of Sylvia.
FLORAL SONNET FOR SYLVIA
The tawny bouquet on the table,
Balanced on a crystal axle,
Is the crest of autumn, ripe
like a Venetian pastoral.
Moisture flashes in the petals'
Overlapping complex wheels:
Unruly silhouetted shapes,
Dark on the wall, resemble owls.
But their beauty is not final
Lacking that lyrical
Sense of order which your hands
Communicate to willing blooms:
Would you were here to double
My pleasures in the sensual.
25 xi 1950
66119796 - not-logged-in-9ebc42294a740febb79a
NOCTURNAL SONNET FOR SYLVIAIs the moon, mild in the mist,
A huntress with a heart of ice,
A prison of comet craters,
An orb for obvious lovers?
Poets enamoured of Phoebus
Criticise his lunar sister:
And astronomers allude
To lack of verdure in the airless vales.
What vow did Verlaine overhear,
What lamp was lit for Verlaine?
That he praised Diana's speed?
For me the moon is a coin
On the counter of the night
Buying dreams of Sylvia.
FDORAL SONNET FOR SYLVIA
The tawny bouquet on the table,
Balanced on a crystal axle,
Is the crest of autumn, ripe
Like a Venetian pastoral.
Moisture flashes in the petals'
Overlapping complex wheels:
Unruly silhouetted shapes,
Dark on the wall, resemble owls.
But their beauty is not final
Lacking that lyrical
Sense of order which your hands
Communicate to willing blooms:
Would you were here to double
My pleasures in the sensual.
25 xi 1950
66198286 - Missybee35
NOCTURNAL SONNET FOR SYLVIAIs the moon, mild in the mist,
A huntress with a heart of ice,
A prison of comet craters,
An orb for obvious lovers?
Poets enamoured of Phoebus
Criticise his lunar sister:
And astronomers allude
To lack of verdure in the airless vales.
What vow did Verlaine overhear?
What lamp was lit for Verlaine?
That he praised Diana's speed?
For me the moon is a coin
On the counter of the night
Buying dreams of Sylvia.
FLORAL SONNET FOR SYLVIA
The tawny bouquet on the table,
Balanced on a crystal axle,
Is the crest of autumn, ripe
like a Venetian pastoral.
Moisture flashes in the petals'
Overlapping complex wheels:
Unruly silhouetted shapes,
Dark on the wall, resemble owls.
But their beauty is not final
Lacking that lyrical
Sense of order which your hands
Communicate to willing blooms:
Would you were here to double
My pleasures in the sensual.
26 xi 1950
66248573 - 2416837397
NOCTURNAL SONNET FOR SYLVIAIs the moon, mild in the mist,
A huntress with a heart of ice,
A prison of comet craters,
An orb for obvious lovers?
Poets enamoured of Phoebus
Criticise his lunar sister:
And astronomers allude
To lack of verdure in the airless vales.
What vow did Verlaine overhear,
What lamp was lit for Verlaine?
That he praised Diana's speed?
For me the moon is a coin
On the counter of the night
Buying dreams of Sylvia.
FLORAL SONNET FOR SYLVIA
The tawny bouquet on the table,
Balanced on a crystal axle,
Is the crest of autumn, ripe
Like a Venetian pastoral.
Moisture flashes in the petals'
Overlapping complex wheels:
Unruly silhouetted shapes,
Dark on the wall, resemble owls.
But their beauty is not final
Lacking that lyrical
Sense of order which your hands
Communicate to willing blooms:
Would you were here to double
My pleasure in the sensual.
66355015 - not-logged-in-75ccf40c48cb3360d99d
NOCTURNAL SONNET FOR SYLVIAIs the moon, mild in the mist,
A huntress with a heart of ice,
A prison of comet craters,
An orb for obvious lovers?
Poets enamoured of Phoebus
Criticise his lunar sister:
And astronomers allude
To lack of verdure in the airless vales.
What vow did Verlaine overhear,
What lamp was lit for Verlaine?
That he praised Diana's speed?
For me the moon is a coin
On the counter of the night
Buying dreams of Sylvia.
FLORAL SONNET FOR SYLVIA
The tawny bouquet on the table,
Balanced on a crystal axle,
Is the crest of autumn, ripe
Like a Venetian pastoral.
Moisture flashes in the petals'
Overlapping complex wheels:
Unruly silhouetted shapes,
Dark on the wall, resemble owls.
But their beauty is not final
Lacking that lyrical
Sense of order which your hands
Communicate to willing blooms:
Would you were here to double
My pleasures in the sensual.
25 xi 1950