Snake - D. H. Lawrence
A snake came to my water-trough
On a hot, hot day, and I in pyjamas for the heat,
To drink there.
In the deep, strange-scented shade of the great dark carob-tree
I came down the steps with my pitcher
And must wait, must stand and wait, for there he was at the trough before
He reached down from a fissure in the earth-wall in the gloom
And trailed his yellow-brown slackness soft-bellied down, over the edge of
the stone trough
And rested his throat upon the stone bottom,
i o And where the water had dripped from the tap, in a small clearness,
He sipped with his straight mouth,
Softly drank through his straight gums, into his slack long body,
Someone was before me at my water-trough,
And I, like a second comer, waiting.
He lifted his head from his drinking, as cattle do,
And looked at me vaguely, as drinking cattle do,
And flickered his two-forked tongue from his lips, and mused a moment,
And stooped and drank a little more,
Being earth-brown, earth-golden from the burning bowels of the earth
On the day of Sicilian July, with Etna smoking.
The voice of my education said to me
He must be killed,
For in Sicily the black, black snakes are innocent, the gold are venomous.
And voices in me said, If you were a man
You would take a stick and break him now, and finish him off.
But must I confess how I liked him,
How glad I was he had come like a guest in quiet, to drink at my water-trough
And depart peaceful, pacified, and thankless,
Into the burning bowels of this earth?
Was it cowardice, that I dared not kill him? Was it perversity, that I longed to talk to him? Was it humility, to feel so honoured?
I felt so honoured.
And yet those voices:
If you were not afraid, you would kill him!
And truly I was afraid, I was most afraid, But even so, honoured still more
That he should seek my hospitality
From out the dark door of the secret earth.
He drank enough
And lifted his head, dreamily, as one who has drunken,
And flickered his tongue like a forked night on the air, so black,
Seeming to lick his lips,
And looked around like a god, unseeing, into the air,
And slowly turned his head,
And slowly, very slowly, as if thrice adream,
Proceeded to draw his slow length curving round
And climb again the broken bank of my wall-face.
And as he put his head into that dreadful hole,
And as he slowly drew up, snake-easing his shoulders, and entered farther,
A sort of horror, a sort of protest against his withdrawing into that horrid black hole,
Deliberately going into the blackness, and slowly drawing himself after,
Overcame me now his back was turned.
I looked round, I put down my pitcher,
I picked up a clumsy log
And threw it at the water-trough with a clatter.
I think it did not hit him,
But suddenly that part of him that was left behind convulsed in undignified haste.
Writhed like lightning, and was gone
Into the black hole, the earth-lipped fissure in the wall-front,
At which, in the intense still noon, I stared with fascination.
And immediately I regretted it.
I thought how paltry, how vulgar, what a mean act!
I despised myself and the voices of my accursed human education.
And I thought of the albatross
And I wished he would come back, my snake.
For he seemed to me again like a king,
Like a king in exile, uncrowned in the underworld,
Now due to be crowned again.
And so, I missed my chance with one of the lords
And I have something to expiate:
The poem Snake by D.H. Lawrence was written in the early 1920s. It is a narrative poem that uses imagery and symbolism to convey Lawrence's idea's about society throughout history. One can see many parallels between social class and Snake.
This poem also highly relfects religious ideas. Although it is not clearly stated, Lawrence has subtle hints in his poem. Many of the symbols used are religious symbols by nature.
D.H. Lawrence's Snake is an interesting poem. Lawrence paints a vivid picture of the snake at the trough, yet it seems as if it is a metaphor. Lawrence seems to be mocking society through his use of the snake. The snake represents the upper class while he, D.H. Lawrence, is just a middle class worker. In Stanza's 1 and 2, Lawrence begins by describing that the snake arrived at the trough first and that he therefore must await his turn. There is no hint that the man fears the snake, but instead there seems to be a respect that provides the man with the patience to wait his turn. As the poem continues, Lawrence paints a picture of the snake. In stanze 5 he states that the snake came from "the burning bowls of the earth." This could be an allusion to hell or even a reflection by man that he does not actually respect the social rankings and only does so for lack of choice. In stanza's 6 and 7 he struggles with his conscience and the idea of killing the snake. This could parallel to social rankings because the under classes may always be thinking of a way to "kill" the upper class; revolts, wars, uprisings etc. Since the man does not kill the snake, we see that he has succumbs to the social conventions and is in fact going to wait his turn as any peasant would in society.
When Lawrence says "Was it cowardice, that I dared not kill him? /Was it perversity, that I longed to talk to him? /Was it humility, to feel so honoured?/I felt so honoured" it parallels to society. The rich people, being the snake, would drink from the trough first feeling no remorse for the middle class man waiting in their presence. The middle class person, feeling as if he should shew the rich person from their trough, instead feels honored to have such nobility around, and as Lawrence later states, is actually afraid to fight back. D.H. Lawrence is combating social structure through the symbolic use of a snake. Eventually the man acknowledges that is is indeed fear of the snake, not respect, that has him waiting. He hurls a log at the snake. The snake, shocked and angry, leaves the trough; but we end up feeling remorse for the snake. Having done nothing wrong, the snake seems like a kind animal, when in reality we know it is not. This could reflect society because people were aware that the upper classes were sneaky like snakes but instead chose to believe that they did not fear them but instead respected them. The man regrets throwing the log as he feels like he has missed out on a memory with a majestic creature.
Most people would not think of a snakes as a majestic creature, but D.H. Lawrence makes it clear in this poem that he does. Many people would take a snake to symbolize sin and evil as seen in the Bible and the Garden of Eden, but actually Lawrence is using it in a majestic and noble light. Perhaps this is the case because he is paralleling society and the nobility can be sneaky and sinful yet still seem majestic, just like the snake.
"And I have some to expiate, a pettiness" is the last and most powerful line of the poem. Expiate is such a strong word meaning repent or atone. The man wants to atone for his sin. He regrets throwing the log at the snake as he realized that the snake was not going to harm him. He wants to repent his pettiness and atone for the sin he has committed.
The use of the word expiate and the talk of atoning for sins leads one to understand that religion is indeed a theme in this poem. The use of the snake as a symbol and the battle between good and evil in this poem are all reasons that religion can be seen as an undertone. The battle of good vs. evil is ongoing in the Bible and can be seen here in this poem, if not only just in the symbol of the snake itself but also in the interaction between the snake and the man being that the man believes he is good vs. the snake whom he believes to be evil.
Rupert Brooke - The Great Lover
I have been so great a lover: filled my days
So proudly with the splendour of Love's praise,
The pain, the calm, and the astonishment,
Desire illimitable, and still content,
And all dear names men use, to cheat despair,
For the perplexed and viewless streams that bear
Our hearts at random down the dark of life.
Now, ere the unthinking silence on that strife
Steals down, I would cheat drowsy Death so far,
My night shall be remembered for a star
That outshone all the suns of all men's days.
Shall I not crown them with immortal praise
Whom I have loved, who have given me, dared with me
High secrets, and in darkness knelt to see
The inenarrable godhead of delight?
Love is a flame; -- we have beaconed the world's night.
A city: -- and we have built it, these and I.
An emperor: -- we have taught the world to die.
So, for their sakes I loved, ere I go hence,
And the high cause of Love's magnificence,
And to keep loyalties young, I'll write those names
Golden for ever, eagles, crying flames,
And set them as a banner, that men may know,
To dare the generations, burn, and blow
Out on the wind of Time, shining and streaming. . . .
These I have loved:
White plates and cups, clean-gleaming,
Ringed with blue lines; and feathery, faery dust;
Wet roofs, beneath the lamp-light; the strong crust
Of friendly bread; and many-tasting food;
Rainbows; and the blue bitter smoke of wood;
And radiant raindrops couching in cool flowers;
And flowers themselves, that sway through sunny hours,
Dreaming of moths that drink them under the moon;
Then, the cool kindliness of sheets, that soon
Smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss
Of blankets; grainy wood; live hair that is
Shining and free; blue-massing clouds; the keen
Unpassioned beauty of a great machine;
The benison of hot water; furs to touch;
The good smell of old clothes; and other such --
The comfortable smell of friendly fingers,
Hair's fragrance, and the musty reek that lingers
About dead leaves and last year's ferns. . . .
And thousand other throng to me! Royal flames;
Sweet water's dimpling laugh from tap or spring;
Holes in the ground; and voices that do sing;
Voices in laughter, too; and body's pain,
Soon turned to peace; and the deep-panting train;
Firm sands; the little dulling edge of foam
That browns and dwindles as the wave goes home;
And washen stones, gay for an hour; the cold
Graveness of iron; moist black earthen mould;
Sleep; and high places; footprints in the dew;
And oaks; and brown horse-chestnuts, glossy-new;
And new-peeled sticks; and shining pools on grass; --
All these have been my loves. And these shall pass,
Whatever passes not, in the great hour,
Nor all my passion, all my prayers, have power
To hold them with me through the gate of Death.
They'll play deserter, turn with the traitor breath,
Break the high bond we made, and sell Love's trust
And sacramented covenant to the dust.
---- Oh, never a doubt but, somewhere, I shall wake,
And give what's left of love again, and make
New friends, now strangers. . . .
But the best I've known,
Stays here, and changes, breaks, grows old, is blown
About the winds of the world, and fades from brains
Of living men, and dies.
O dear my loves, O faithless, once again
This one last gift I give: that after men
Shall know, and later lovers, far-removed,
Praise you, "All these were lovely"; say, "He loved."
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.
A. E. Housman - When I was one-and-twenty
When I was one-and-twenty
I heard a wise man say,
“Give crowns and pounds and guineas
But not your heart away;
Give pearls away and rubies
But keep your fancy free.”
But I was one-and-twenty,
No use to talk to me.
When I was one-and-twenty
I heard him say again,
“The heart out of the bosom
Was never given in vain;
’Tis paid with sighs a plenty
And sold for endless rue.”
And I am two-and-twenty,
And oh, ’tis true, ’tis true.
Emma Lazarus - The New Colossus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
Gerard Manley Hopkins - The Windhover
I caught this morning morning's minion, king-
dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
As a skate's heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird, – the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!
Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!
No wonder of it: shéer plód makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.
Lewis Carroll - Jabberwocky
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”
He took his vorpal sword in hand;
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Emily Dickinson - In A Library
A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is
To meet an antique book,
In just the dress his century wore;
A privilege, I think,
His venerable hand to take,
And warming in our own,
A passage back, or two, to make
To times when he was young.
His quaint opinions to inspect,
His knowledge to unfold
On what concerns our mutual mind,
The literature of old;
What interested scholars most,
What competitions ran
When Plato was a certainty.
And Sophocles a man;
When Sappho was a living girl,
And Beatrice wore
The gown that Dante deified.
Facts, centuries before,
He traverses familiar,
As one should come to town
And tell you all your dreams were true;
He lived where dreams were sown.
His presence is enchantment,
You beg him not to go;
Old volumes shake their vellum heads
And tantalize, just so.
Walt Whitman - A Noiseless Patient Spider
A noiseless patient spider,
I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.
And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,
Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.
Edward Lear - The Two Old Bachelors
Two old Bachelors were living in one house;
One caught a Muffin, the other caught a Mouse.
Said he who caught the Muffin to him who caught the Mouse,--
'This happens just in time! For we've nothing in the house,
'Save a tiny slice of lemon nd a teaspoonful of honey,
'And what to do for dinner -- since we haven't any money?
'And what can we expect if we haven't any dinner,
'But to loose our teeth and eyelashes and keep on growing thinner?'
Said he who caught the Mouse to him who caught the Muffin,--
'We might cook this little Mouse, if we had only some Stuffin'!
'If we had but Sage andOnion we could do extremely well,
'But how to get that Stuffin' it is difficult to tell'--
Those two old Bachelors ran quickly to the town
And asked for Sage and Onions as they wandered up and down;
They borrowed two large Onions, but no Sage was to be found
In the Shops, or in the Market, or in all the Gardens round.
But some one said, -- 'A hill there is, a little to the north,
'And to its purpledicular top a narrow way leads forth;--
'And there among the rugged rocks abides an ancient Sage,--
'An earnest Man, who reads all day a most perplexing page.
'Climb up, and seize him by the toes! -- all studious as he sits,--
'And pull him down, -- and chop him into endless little bits!
'Then mix him with your Onion, (cut up likewise into Scraps,)--
'When your Stuffin' will be ready -- and very good: perhaps.'
Those two old Bachelors without loss of time
The nearly purpledicular crags at once began to climb;
And at the top, among the rocks, all seated in a nook,
They saw that Sage, a reading of a most enormous book.
'You earnest Sage!' aloud they cried, 'your book you've read enough in!--
'We wish to chop you into bits to mix you into Stuffin'!'--
But that old Sage looked calmly up, and with his awful book,
At those two Bachelors' bald heads a certain aim he took;--
and over crag and precipice they rolled promiscuous down,--
At once they rolled, and never stopped in lane or field or town,--
And when they reached their house, they found (besides their want
The Mouse had fled; -- and, previously, had eaten up the Muffin.
They left their home in silence by the once convivial door.
And from that hour those Bachelors were never heard of more.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson - Ulysses
It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: All times I have enjoy'd
Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone, on shore, and when
Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honour'd of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades
For ever and forever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!
As tho' to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,—
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.
There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me—
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'T is not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
Edgar Allan Poe - The Conqueror Worm
Lo! ’t is a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years!
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see
A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.
Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly—
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their Condor wings
That motley drama—oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for evermore
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
To the self-same spot,
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
And Horror the soul of the plot.
But see, amid the mimic rout,
A crawling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes!—it writhes!—with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And seraphs sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued.
Out—out are the lights—out all!
And, over each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
While the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, “Man,”
And its hero, the Conqueror Worm.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - Snowflakes
Out of the bosom of the Air
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.
Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance confession
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.
This is the poem of the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
Now whispered and revealed
To wood and field.
John Keats - To Autumn
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
Where are the songs of spring? Ay, Where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
Percy Bysshe Shelley - Love's Philosophy
The fountains mingle with the river,
And the rivers with the ocean;
The winds of heaven mix forever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In another's being mingle--
Why not I with thine?
See, the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister flower could be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea;--
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?
George Gordon, Lord Byron - The First Kiss of Love
Away with your fictions of flimsy romance;
Those tissues of falsehood which folly has wove!
Give me the mild beam of the soul-breathing glance,
Or the rapture which dwells on the first kiss of love.
Ye rhymers, whose bosoms with phantasy glow,
Whose pastoral passions are made for the grove;
From what blest inpiration your sonnets would flow,
Could you ever have tasted the first kiss of love!
If Apollo should e'er his assistance refuse,
Or the Nine be desposed from your service to rove,
Invoke them no more, bid adieu to the muse,
and try the effect of the first kiss of love.
I hate you, ye cold compositions of art!
Though prudes may condemn me, and bigots reprove,
I court the effusions that spring from the heart,
Which throbes with delight to the first kiss of love.
Your shepherds, your flocks, those fantastical themes,
Perhapes may amuse, yet they never can move:
Arcadia displays but a region of dreams:
What are visions like these to the first kiss of love?
Oh! cease to affirm that man, since his birth,
From Adam till now, has with wretchedness strove,
Some portion of paradise still is on earth,
And Eden revives in the first kiss of love.
When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past-
For years fleet away with the wings of the dove-
The dearest rememberance will still be the last,
Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love.
Leigh Hunt - Abou Ben Adhem
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:?
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou?"?The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow men."
The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blest,
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.
Thomas Campbell - The River of Life
The more we live, more brief appear
Our life's succeeding stages;
A day to childhood seems a year,
And years like passing ages.
The gladsome current of our youth,
Ere passion yet disorders,
Steals lingering like a river smooth
Along its grassy borders.
But as the careworn cheek grows wan,
And sorrow's shafts fly thicker,
Ye stars, that measure life to man,
Why seem your courses quicker?
When joys have lost their bloom and breath,
And life itself is vapid,
Why, as we reach the Falls of Death
Feel we its tide more rapid?
It may be strange—yet who would change
Time's course to slower speeding,
When one by one our friends have gone,
And left our bosoms bleeding?
Heaven gives our years of fading strength
And those of youth, a seeming length,
Proportion'd to their sweetness.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge - Kubla Khan
Or, a vision in a dream. A Fragment.
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round;
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:
And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean;
And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight ’twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
William Wordsworth - It is a Beauteous Evening
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free,
The holy time is quiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration; the broad sun
Is sinking down in its tranquility;
The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea;
Listen! the mighty Being is awake,
And doth with his eternal motion make
A sound like thunder—everlastingly.
Dear child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here,
If thou appear untouched by solemn thought,
Thy nature is not therefore less divine:
Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year;
And worshipp'st at the Temple's inner shrine,
God being with thee when we know it not.
William Blake - A Poison Tree
I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I waterd it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night.
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.
And into my garden stole,
When the night had veild the pole;
In the morning glad I see;
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
Alexander Pope - Solitude
Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air,
In his own ground.
Whose heards with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.
Blest! who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years slide soft away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,
Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mix'd; sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please,
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me dye;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lye.
William Oldys - On a Fly Drinking Out of His Cup
Busy, curious, thirsty fly!
Drink with me and drink as I:
Freely welcome to my cup,
Couldst thou sip and sip it up:
Make the most of life you may,
Life is short and wears away.
Both alike are mine and thine
Hastening quick to their decline:
Thine's a summer, mine's no more,
Though repeated to threescore.
Threescore summers, when they're gone,
Will appear as short as one!
Andrew Marvell - To His Coy Mistress
Had we but world enough and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down, and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love’s day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the flood,
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires and more slow;
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear
Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found;
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long-preserved virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust;
The grave’s a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapped power.
Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Through the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.
Sir John Suckling - The Constant Lover
Out upon it, I have lov'd
Three whole days together;
And am like to love three more,
If it prove fair weather.
Time shall molt away his wings
Ere he shall discover
In such whole wide world again
Such a constant lover.
But the spite on't is, no praise
Is due at all to me:
Love with me had made no stays
Had it any been but she.
Had it any been but she
And that very face,
There had been at least ere this
A dozen dozen in her place.
John Milton - Sonnet 19 - When I consider how my light is spent
When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide;
“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”
I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o’er Land and Ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.”
James Shirley - The Glories of our Blood and State
The glories of our blood and state
Are shadows, not substantial things;
There is no armour against Fate;
Death lays his icy hand on kings:
Sceptre and Crown
Must tumble down,
And in the dust be equal made
With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Some men with swords may reap the field,
And plant fresh laurels where they kill:
But their strong nerves at last must yield;
They tame but one another still:
Early or late
They stoop to fate,
And must give up their murmuring breath
When they, pale captives, creep to death.
The garlands wither on your brow;
Then boast no more your mighty deeds!
Upon Death's purple altar now
See where the victor-victim bleeds.
Your heads must come
To the cold tomb:
Only the actions of the just
Smell sweet and blossom in their dust.
John Donne - Song
Go and catch a falling star,
Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me where all past years are,
Or who cleft the devil's foot,
Teach me to hear mermaids singing,
Or to keep off envy's stinging,
Serves to advance an honest mind.
If thou be'st born to strange sights,
Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand days and nights,
Till age snow white hairs on thee,
Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me,
All strange wonders that befell thee,
Lives a woman true, and fair.
If thou find'st one, let me know,
Such a pilgrimage were sweet;
Yet do not, I would not go,
Though at next door we might meet;
Though she were true, when you met her,
And last, till you write your letter,
False, ere I come, to two, or three.
King James Version (KJV) - Psalm 23
1 (A Psalm of David.) The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.
William Shakespeare - Sonnet 02
When forty winters shall beseige thy brow,
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now,
Will be a tatter'd weed, of small worth held:
Then being ask'd where all thy beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days;
To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes,
Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.
How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use,
If thou couldst answer 'This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count and make my old excuse,'
Proving his beauty by succession thine!
This were to be new made when thou art old,
And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold.
Sir Edward Dyer - My Mind to Me a Kingdom Is
My mind to me a kingdom is;
Such perfect joy therein I find
That it excels all other bliss
Which God or nature hath assign'd.
Though much I want that most would have,
Yet still my mind forbids to crave.
No princely port, nor wealthy store,
No force to win a victory,
No wily wit to salve a sore,
No shape to win a loving eye;
To none of these I yield as thrall,--
For why? my mind despise them all.
I see that plenty surfeit oft,
And hasty climbers soonest fall;
I see that such as are aloft
Mishap doth threaten most of all.
These get with toil and keep with fear;
Such cares my mind can never bear.
I press to bear no haughty sway,
I wish no more than may suffice,
I do no more than well I may,
Look, what I want my mind supplies.
Lo ! thus I triumph like a king,
My mind content with anything.
I laugh not at another's loss,
Nor grudge not at another's gain;
No worldly waves my mind can toss;
I brook that is another's bane.
I fear no foe, nor fawn on friend,
I loathe not life, nor dread mine end.
My wealth is health and perfect ease,
And conscience clear my chief defence;
I never seek by bribes to please,
Nor by desert to give offence.
Thus do I live, thus will I die,--
Would all did so as well as I!
Edmund Spenser - My Love is Like to Ice, Sonnet 30
My Love is lyke to yse, and I to fyre:
How comes it then that this her cold so great
Is not dissolv'd through my so hot desyre,
But harder growes the more I her intreat?
Or how comes it that my exceeding heat
Is not delayd* by her hart-frosen cold,
But that I burne much more in boyling sweat,
And feele my flames augmented manifold?
What more miraculous thing may be told,
That fire, which all things melts, should harden yse,
And yse, which is congeald with sencelesse cold,
Should kindle fyre by wonderful devyse?
Such is the powre of love in gentle mind,
That it can alter all the course of kynd.
Anonymous - There is a Lady Sweet and Kind
THERE 1 is a Lady sweet and kind,
Was never face so pleased my mind;
I did but see her passing by,
And yet I love her till I die.
Her gesture, motion, and her smiles, 5
Her wit, her voice my heart beguiles,
Beguiles my heart, I know not why,
And yet I love her till I die.
Cupid is winged and doth range,
Her country so my love doth change: 10
But change she earth, or change she sky,
Yet will I love her till I die.
Sir Walter Raleigh - What is Our Life?
What is our life? A play of passion,
Our mirth the music of division,
Our mother's wombs the tiring-houses be,
Where we are dressed for this short comedy.
Heaven the judicious sharp spectator is,
That sits and marks still who doth act amiss.
Our graves that hide us from the setting sun
Are like drawn curtains when the play is done.
Thus march we, playing, to our latest rest,
Only we die in earnest, that's no jest.
Vintage Verse Rhapsody: A Poetry Collection
Conteúdo completo disponível em:
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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 22 - Bíblia Online
EPÍLOGO - O Diário de Anne Frank
Capítulo I - Macunaíma - Mário de Andrade
CAPÍTULO PRIMEIRO - DO TÍTULO - Dom Casmurro - Machado de Assis
CAPÍTULO PRIMEIRO - Quincas Borba - Machado de Assis
CAPÍTULO PRIMEIRO / ÓBITO DO AUTOR - Memórias Póstumas de Brás Cubas - Machado de Assis
Capítulo II - A Lição de Violão - O Triste Fim de Policarpo Quaresma - Lima Barreto
CAPÍTULO I - NA CASA PATERNA - Mein Kampf - Adolf Hitler
Capítulo I - Cinco Minutos - José de Alencar
O Triste Fim de Policarpo Quaresma - Lima Barreto
1. Cronologia do Universo - História em 1 Minuto
TOP 10: Poesia - Poemas em Português, Espanhol, francês e inglês
A Esperança - Augusto dos Anjos
Ismalia - Alphonsus de Guimaraens
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
À Cidade da Bahia - Gregório de Matos
Siderações - Broquéis - João da Cruz e Sousa
A canção do africano - Os Escravos - Castro Alves
Agonia de um filósofo - Augusto dos Anjos - Eu e Outras Poesia
Tanto de Meu Estado me Acho Incerto - Soneto 04 - Luís Vaz de Camões
Robert Burns - A Red, Red Rose
Emile Verhaeren - A la Belgique
Ignacio Manuel Altamirano - Los Naranjos
Amor é fogo que arde sem se ver - Luís Vaz de Camões
TOP 20: 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
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
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
Esaú e Jacó
Memórias Póstumas de Brás Cubas
A Carteira - Machado de Assis - PDF Download Livro Online
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
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
CRZY - Kehlani - Song Lyrics
All Eyez - The Game Featuring Jeremih - Song Lyrics
TOP 60: Conheça seu Estado - História e Geografia
As regiões do estado de Santa Catarina
Grande Florianópolis (Mesorregião)
Norte Catarinense (Mesorregião)
Oeste Catarinense (Mesorregião) (UP)
O espaço geográfico e sua organização
A organização do espaço geográfico brasileiro
Rio Tietê (Anhembi) - Um rio e muitas histórias
Recursos hídricos - Aquífero Guarani
Utilização dos recursos hídricos no estado de São Paulo
Bacias hidrográficas do estado de São Paulo
As águas do estado de São Paulo
O relevo do estado de São Paulo (DOWN)
As atividades econômicas do estado de São Paulo
Os imigrantes no século XIX e XX no estado do Paraná (DOWN-24)
A população atual do estado do Paraná
O crescimento populacional do estado do Paraná
Natureza e condições ambientais do Paraná
Preservação histórica e cultural (DOWN-26)
A preservação histórica e cultural do Mato Grosso do Sul
A formação da cultura do Mato Grosso do Sull
As atividades econômicas do Mato Grosso do Sul
Setor primário da economia do Mato Grosso do Sul
Atividades extrativistas do Mato Grosso do Sul
Setor secundário da economia do Mato Grosso do Sul
Setor terciário da economia do Mato Grosso do Sul
Turismo em Mato Grosso do Sul
As festas populares do estado de Mato Grosso do Sul
Carlos Drummond de Andrade – o poeta imortal
Tesouro líquido - GOTA-D’ÁGUA
Em busca da água que sustenta a vida
Com licença, por favor, obrigado(a)!
Fotografia - Um documento histórico
Organização do espaço urbano - necessidade ou arte?
Da pedra ao mármore
As fortalezas medievais
Diferentes culturas, diferentes estéticas
Arquitetura e estética no Brasil
Bailarina - Jogos para Crianças - Atividades Educativas Ensino Fundamental
Balão - Jogos para Crianças - Atividades Educativas Ensino Fundamental
Escova de dentes - Jogos para Crianças - Atividades Educativas Ensino Fundamental
Atividades Educativas Ensino Fundamental - Aprendendo sobre o Dinheiro
Curso de Inglês em 2 Horas - Aula 01 / 20 (Nível Básico)
Curso de Espanhol em 2 Horas - Aula 01 / 20 (Nível Básico)
Revisão de Inglês em 2 Horas - Aula 01 / 20 (Básico e Intermediário)
Progress 4GL - 0101 - Progress DCA - Parte 01
01-38 - SAP Business All-In-One and the Midmarket Approach
Crônica dos burros - Machado de Assis
Machado de Assis - Esaú e Jacó - 01 - Advertência, Capítulos 1 a 3
José de Alencar - Diva - Prefácio
Artur de Azevedo - 01 - A Conselho do Marido
Miss Dollar - Contos Fluminenses e Histórias da Meia-Noite - 01 - Machado de Assis
Contos de Eça de Queirós - 01 - Singularidades de uma rapariga loura, parte 1
Fiódor Dostoiévski - Um Club da Má Língua - Capítulo 01
Machado de Assis - Casa Velha - Capítulo 01
Camilo Castelo Branco - Amor de Perdição - Introdução
Euclides da Cunha - À Margem da História - Capítulo 01 - Impressões gerais
Eugênio Werneck - Antologia Brasileira - 00 - Duas Palavras, de Eugênio Werneck
Euclides da Cunha - Os Sertões - 01 / 49
Machado de Assis - O Alienista - 01 / 09
Lima Barreto - O Triste Fim de Policarpo Quaresma - 01 / 15
Machado de Assis - A Mão e a Luva - 01 / 19
Raul Pompeia - O Ateneu - 01 / 12
Olavo Bilac - Contos para Velhos - 01 / 16
José de Alencar - Cinco Minutos - 01 / 10
Demóstenes - Oração da Coroa - Parte 1
Lima Barreto - Contos - 01 / 20
Bíblia - Gênesis - 01 / 10
William Shakespeare - Hamlet - 01 / 05
Jane Austen - Pride and Prejudice - 01 / 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