gri_2003_m_46_b04_f12_006
- Max. dissimilarity: 0.06
- Mean dissimilarity: 0.033
- Image votes: 0.0
Transcribers
- 66640430 - Preacher357
- 66756091 - Pandanglish
- WINNER - 66771155 - dmoransee
- 66935102 - maestrie
- 67268220 - WendyZ
- 67293461 - jmfahne
66640430 - Preacher357
SYLVIA BATHINGargument: The poet as voyeur, listener, poet, court
taster, and lover. In imitation of George Chapman.
Her footsteps a moon in the water.
I was not far away and heard
Water applaud as she advanced.
A river slapped her bottom.
Eyelashes of trees were modest
But could not close my eyes nor hoard
For dumb material her beauty,
Who swam wherever eyes could go.
She sang as she floated tidelessly:
'I heard a song and it went
Down the open of my ear
Like the wanderer of the telling.
There he spoke and echo bent
Like a brother answering.
The hill is a head and while I'm here
I'll know the mystery of words'.
There was the Latin poet's girl,
Julia to an English poet,
Describing her delighting Ovid,
Among her atmospheric jars:
Inhaling from air's ancient pot
The Latin poet closed his eyes;
Perfume's invisible spiral
Entered his head with subtle power.
Ambiguous as Musidora
Crouched above her Friday's footprint
She promises to blood with flesh
The early nymph above the wier:
She entertains the mute adorer
On a night by History hidden;
He tastes her lips, her mouth's soft spring
Runs in the barn to drown his fears.
When I touch you my hands have grown
Breasts and eyes and teeth and groin:
Contact is like a girl shouting
Inside my body's cave until
Echoes of you are my heart beating.
And the muscles' loving tremble.
This time I swim and you are now
The river feeling the river flow.
(November 1951)
66756091 - Pandanglish
SYLVIA BATHINGArgument: The poet as voyeur, listener, poet, court
taster, and lover. In imitation of George Chapman.
Her footstep a moon in the water.
I was not far away and heard
Water applaud as she advanced.
A river slapped her bottom.
Eyelashes of trees were modest
But could not close my eyes nor hoard
For dumb material her beauty,
Who swam wherever eyes would go.
She sang as she floated tidelessly:
'I heard a song and it went
Down the open of my ear
Like the wanderer of the telling.
There he spoke and echo bent
Like a brother answering.
The hill is a head and while I'm here
I'll know the mystery of words'.
There was the Latin poet's girl,
Julia, to an English poet,
Describing her delighting Ovid,
Among her atmospheric jars:
Inhaling from air's ancient pot
The Latin poet closed his eyes;
Perfume's invisible spiral
Entered his head with subtle power.
Ambiguous as Musidora
Crouched above her Friday's footprint
She promises to blood with flesh
The early nymph above the wier:
She entertains the mute adorer
On a night by History hidden:
He tastes her lips, her mouth's soft spring
Runs in the barn to drown his fears.
When I touch you my hands have grown
Breasts and eyes and teeth and groin:
Contact is like a girl shouting
Inside my body's cave until
Echoes of you are my heart beating,
And this muscles' loving tremble.
This time I swim and you are now
The river feeling the river flow.
(November 1951)
WINNER - 66771155 - dmoransee
SYLVIA BATHINGargument: The poet as voyeur, listener, poet, court taster, and lover: In imitation of George Chapman.
Her footstep a moon in the water.
I was not far away and heard
Water applaud as she advanced.
A river slapped her bottom.
Eyelashes of trees were modest
But could not close my eyes nor hoard
For dumb material her beauty,
Who swam wherever eyes could go.
She sang as she floated tidelessly:
'I heard a song and it went
Down the open of my ear
Like the wanderer of the telling.
There he spoke and echo bent
Like a brother answering.
The hill is a head and while I'm here
I'll know the mystery of words'.
There was the Latin poet's girl,
Julia to an English poet,
Describing her delighting Ovid,
Among her atmospheric jars:
Inhaling from air's ancient pot
The Latin poet closed his eyes;
Perfume's invisible spiral
Entered his head with subtle power.
Ambiguous as Musidora
Crouched above her Fridays's footprint
She promises to blood with flesh
The early nymph above the wier:
She entertains the mute adorer
On a night by History hidden;
He tastes her lips, her mouth's soft spring
Runs in the barn to drown his fears.
When I touch you my hands have grown
Breasts and eyes and teeth and groin:
Contact is like a girl shouting
Inside my body's cave until
Echoes of you are my heart beating,
And the muscles' loving tremble.
This time I swim and you are now
The river feeling the river flow.
(November 1951)
66935102 - maestrie
SYLVIA BATHINGargument: The poet as voyeur, listener, poet, court
taster, and lover. In imitation of George Chapman.
Her footstep a moon in the water.
I was not far away and heard
Water applaud as she advanced.
A river slapped her bottom.
Eyelashes of trees were modest
But could not close my eyes nor board
For dumb material her beauty,
Who swam wherever eyes could go.
She sang as she floated tidelessly:
'I heard a song and it went
Down the open of my ear
Like the wanderer of the telling.
there he spoke and echo bent
Like a brother answering.
The hill is a head and while I'm here
I'll know the mystery of words'.
There was the Latin poet's girl,
Julia to an English poet,
Describing her delighting Ovid,
Among her atmospheric jars:
Inhaling from air's ancient pot
The Latin poet closed his eyes;
Perfume's invisible spiral
Entered his head with subtle power.
Ambiguous as Musidora
Crouched above her Friday's footprint
She promises to blood with flesh
The early nymph above the wier:
She entertains the mute adorer
On a night by History hidden;
He tastes her lips, her mouth's soft spring
Runs in the barn to drown his fears.
When I touch you my hands have grown
Breasts and eyes and teeth and groin:
Contact is like a girl shouting
Inside my body's cave until
Echoes of you are my heart beating,
And the muscles' loving tremble.
This time I swim and you are now
The river feeling the river flow.
(November 1951)
67268220 - WendyZ
SYLVIA BATHINGarguement: The poet as yoyeur, listener, poet, court taster, and lover. In initation of George Chapman.
Her footstep a moon in the water.
I was not far away and heard
Water applaud as she advanced.
A river slapped her bottom.
Eyelashes of trees were modest
But could not close my eyes not hoard
For dumb material her beauty,
Who swam wherever eyes could go.
She sang as she floated tidelessly:
'I heard a song and it went
Down the open of my ear
Like the wanderer of the telling.
There he spoke and echo bent
Like a brother answering.
The hill is a head and while I'm here
I'll know the mystery of words'.
There was the Latin poet's girl,
Julia to an English poet,
Describing her delighting Ovid,
Among her atmosphere jars:
Inhaling from air's ancient pot
The Latin poet closed his eyes;
Perfume's invisible spiral
Entered his head with subtle power.
Ambiguous as Musidora
Crouched above her Friday's footprint
She promises to blood whith flesh
The early nymph above the wier:
She entertains the mute adorer
On a night by History hidden;
He tastes her lips, her mouth's soft spring
Runs in the barn to drown his fears.
When I touch you my hands have grown
Breatests and eyes and teeth and groin:
Contact is like a girl shouting
Inside my body's cave until
Echoes of you are my heart beating,
And the muscles' loving tremble.
This time I swim and you are now
The river feeling the river flow.
(November 1951)
67293461 - jmfahne
SYLVIA BATHINGarguement: The poet as voyeur, listener, poet, court taster, and lover. I n imitation of George Chapman.
Her footstep a moon in the water.
I was not far away and heard
Water applaud as she advanced.
A river slapped her bottom.
Eyelashes of tress were modest
But could not close my eyes nor hoard
For dumb material her beauty,
Who swam wherever eyes could go.
She sang as she floated tidelessly:
"I heard a song and it went
Down the open of my ear
Like the wanderer of the telling.
There he spoke and echo bent
Like a brother answering.
The Bill is a head and while I'm here
I'll know the mystery of words'.
There was the Latin poet's girl,
Julia to an English poet,
Describing her delighting Ovid,
Among her atmospheric jars:
Inhaling from air's ancient pot
The Latin poet closed his eyes;
Perfume's invisible spiral
Entered his head with subtle power.
Ambiguous as Musidora
Crouched above her Friday's footprint
She promises to blood with flesh
The early nymph above the wier:
She entertains the mute adorer
On a night by History hidden;
He tastes her lips, her mouth's soft spring
Runs in the barn to drown his fears.
When I touch you my hands have grown
Breasts and eyes and teeth and groin:
Contact is like a girl shouting
Inside my body's cave until
Echoes of you are my heart beating,
And the muscles' loving tremble.
This time I swim and you are now
The river feeling the river flow.
(November 1951)