Sunday, November 20, 2016

William Blake - The Tyger

       


















William Blake - The Tyger

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?














Robert-Louis-Stevenson-The-Swing

Robert Louis Stevenson - The Swing

How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
River and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside--

Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown--
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!
















Claude-McKay-Summer-Morn-in-New-Hampshire

Claude McKay - Summer Morn in New Hampshire

All yesterday it poured, and all night long
I could not sleep; the rain unceasing beat
Upon the shingled roof like a weird song,
Upon the grass like running children's feet.
And down the mountains by the dark cloud kissed,
Like a strange shape in filmy veiling dressed,
Slid slowly, silently, the wraith-like mist,
And nestled soft against the earth's wet breast.

But lo, there was a miracle at dawn!
The still air stirred at touch of the faint breeze,
The sun a sheet of gold bequeathed the lawn,
The songsters twittered in the rustling trees.
And all things were transfigured in the day,
But me whom radiant beauty could not move;
For you, more wonderful, were far away,
And I was blind with hunger for your love.











Hamlin-Garland-Sport

Hamlin Garland - Sport

Somewhere, in deeps
Of tangled, ripening wheat,
A little prairie-chicken cries-
Lost from its fellows, it pleads and weeps.
Meanwhile, stained and mangled,
With dust-filled eyes,
The unreplying mother lies
Limp and bloody at the sportsman's feet.












Edna-St-Vincent-Millay-Sonnet-V

Edna St. Vincent Millay - Sonnet V (Once more into my arid days like dew)

Once more into my arid days like dew,
Like wind from an oasis, or the sound
Of cold sweet water bubbling underground,
A treacherous messenger, the thought of you
Comes to destroy me; once more I renew
Firm faith in your abundance, whom I found
Long since to be but just one other mound
Of sand, whereon no green thing ever grew.
And once again, and wiser in no wise,
I chase your colored phantom on the air,
And sob and curse and fall and weep and rise
And stumble pitifully on to where,
Miserable and lost, with stinging eyes,
Once more I clasp,—and there is nothing there.









Andrew-Barton-Paterson-Saltbush-Bills-Second-Fight

Andrew Barton Paterson - Saltbush Bill's Second Fight

The news came down on the Castlereagh, and went to the world at large,
That twenty thousand traveling sheep, with Saltbush Bill in charge,
Were drifting down from a dried-out run to ravage the Castlereagh;
And the squatters swore when they heard the news, and wished they were well away:
For the name and the fame of Saltbush Bill were over the country-side
For the wonderful way that he fed his sheep, and the dodges and tricks he tried.
He would lose his way on a Main Stock Route, and stray to the squatters' grass;
He would come to a run with the boss away, and swear he had leave to pass;
And back of all and behind it all, as well the squatters knew,
If he had to fight, he would fight all day, so long as his sheep got through:
But this is the story of Stingy Smith, the owner of Hard Times Hill,
And the way that he chanced on a fighting man to reckon with Saltbush Bill.

* * * * * *

'Twas Stingy Smith on his stockyard sat, and prayed for an early Spring,
When he started at sight of a clean-shaved tramp, who walked with a jaunty swing;
For a clean-shaved tramp with a jaunty walk a-swinging along the track
Is as rare a thing as a feathered frog on the desolate roads out back.
So the tramp he made for the travelers' hut, to ask could he camp the night;
But Stingy Smith had a bright idea, and called to him, "Can you fight?"

"Why, what's the game?" said the clean-shaved tramp, as he looked at him up and down;
"If you want a battle, get off that fence, and I'll kill you for half-a-crown!
But, Boss, you'd better not fight with me, it wouldn't be fair nor right;
I'm Stiffener Joe, from the Rocks Brigade, and I killed a man in a fight:
I served two years for it, fair and square, and now I'm trampin' back,
To look for a peaceful quiet life away on the outside track."

"Oh, it's not myself, but a drover chap," said Stingy Smith with glee,
"A bullying fellow called Saltbush Bill, and you are the man for me.
He's on the road with his hungry sheep, and he's certain to raise a row,
For he's bullied the whole of the Castlereagh till he's got them under cow,
Just pick a quarrel and raise a fight, and leather him good and hard,
And I'll take good care that his wretched sheep don't wander a half a yard.
It's a five-pound job if you belt him well, do anything short of kill,
For there isn't a beak on the Castlereagh will fine you for Saltbush Bill."

"I'll take the job," said the fighting man; "and, hot as this cove appears,
He'll stand no chance with a bloke like me, what's lived on the game for years;
For he's maybe learnt in a boxing school, and sparred for a round or so,
But I've fought all hands in a ten-foot ring each night in a traveling show;
They earned a pound if they stayed three rounds, and they tried for it every night.
In a ten-foot ring! Oh, that's the game that teaches a bloke to fight,
For they'd rush and clinch, it was Dublin Rules, and we drew no colour line;
And they all tried hard for to earn the pound, but they got no pound of mine.
If I saw no chance in the opening round I'd slog at their wind, and wait
Till an opening came, and it always came, and I settled 'em, sure as fate;
Left on the ribs and right on the jaw, and, when the chance comes, make sure!
And it's there a professional bloke like me gets home on an amateur:
For it's my experience every day, and I make no doubt it's yours,
That a third-class pro is an over-match for the best of the amateurs,"
"Oh, take your swag to the travelers' hut," said Smith, "for you waste your breath;
You've a first-class chance, if you lose the fight, of talking your man to death.
I'll tell the cook you're to have your grub, and see that you eat your fill,
And come to the scratch all fit and well to leather this Saltbush Bill."

* * * * * *

'Twas Saltbush Bill, and his traveling sheep were wending their weary way
On the Main Stock Route, through the Hard Times Run, on their six-mile stage a day;
And he strayed a mile from the Main Stock Route, and started to feed along,
And when Stingy Smith came up Bill said that the Route was surveyed wrong;
And he tried to prove that the sheep had rushed and strayed from their camp at night,
But the fighting man he kicked Bill's dog, and of course that meant a fight.

So they sparred and fought, and they shifted ground, and never a sound was heard
But the thudding fists on their brawny ribs, and the seconds' muttered word,
Till the fighting man shot home his left on the ribs with a mighty clout,
And his right flashed up with a half-arm blow, and Saltbush Bill "went out".
He fell face down, and towards the blow; and their hearts with fear were filled,
For he lay as still as a fallen tree, and they thought that he must be killed.

So Stingy Smith and the fighting man, they lifted him from the ground,
And sent back home for a brandy-flask, and they slowly fetched him round;
But his head was bad, and his jaw was hurt, in fact, he could scarcely speak,
So they let him spell till he got his wits; and he camped on the run a week,
While the traveling sheep went here and there, wherever they liked to stray,
Till Saltbush Bill was fit once more for the track to the Castlereagh.

* * * * * *

Then Stingy Smith he wrote a note, and gave to the fighting man:
'Twas writ to the boss of the neighbouring run, and thus the missive ran:
"The man with this is a fighting man, one Stiffener Joe by name;
He came near murdering Saltbush Bill, and I found it a costly game:
But it's worth your while to employ the chap, for there isn't the slightest doubt
You'll have no trouble from Saltbush Bill while this man hangs about."
But an answer came by the next week's mail, with news that might well appal:
"The man you sent with a note is not a fighting man at all!
He has shaved his beard, and has cut his hair, but I spotted him at a look;
He is Tom Devine, who has worked for years for Saltbush Bill as cook.
Bill coached him up in the fighting yard, and taught him the tale by rote,
And they shammed to fight, and they got your grass, and divided your five-pound note.
'Twas a clean take-in; and you'll find it wise, 'twill save you a lot of pelf,
When next you're hiring a fighting man, just fight him a round yourself."

* * * * * *

And the teamsters out on the Castlereagh, when they meet with a week of rain,
And the waggon sinks to its axle-tree, deep down in the black-soil plain,
When the bullocks wade in a sea of mud, and strain at the load of wool,
And the cattle-dogs at the bullocks' heels are biting to make them pull,
When the off-side driver flays the team, and curses tham while he flogs,
And the air is thick with the language used, and the clamour of men and dogs,
The teamsters say, as they pause to rest and moisten each hairy throat,
They wish they could swear like Stingy Smith when he read that neighbour's note.


















John-Gould-Fletcher-Prayers-For-Wind

John Gould Fletcher - Prayers For Wind

Let the winds come,
  And bury our feet in the sands of seven deserts;
  Let strong breezes rise,
  Washing our ears with the far-off sounds of the foam.
  Let there be between our faces
  Green turf and a branch or two of back-tossed trees;
  Set firmly over questioning hearts
  The deep unquenchable answer of the wind.






















Claude-McKay-Poetry

Claude McKay - Poetry

Sometimes I tremble like a storm-swept flower,
And seek to hide my tortured soul from thee.
Bowing my head in deep humility
Before the silent thunder of thy power.
Sometimes I flee before thy blazing light,
As from the specter of pursuing death;
Intimidated lest thy mighty breath,
Windways, will sweep me into utter night.
For oh, I fear they will be swallowed up--
The loves which are to me of vital worth,
My passion and my pleasure in the earth--
And lost forever in thy magic cup!
I fear, I fear my truly human heart
Will perish on the altar-stone of art!




















Thomas-Hardy-The-Man-He-Killed

Thomas Hardy - The Man He Killed

"Had he and I but met
            By some old ancient inn,
We should have sat us down to wet
            Right many a nipperkin!

            "But ranged as infantry,
            And staring face to face,
I shot at him as he at me,
            And killed him in his place.

            "I shot him dead because —
            Because he was my foe,
Just so: my foe of course he was;
            That's clear enough; although

            "He thought he'd 'list, perhaps,
            Off-hand like — just as I —
Was out of work — had sold his traps —
            No other reason why.

            "Yes; quaint and curious war is!
            You shoot a fellow down
You'd treat if met where any bar is,
            Or help to half-a-crown."















Claude-McKay-If-We-Must-Die

Claude McKay - If We Must Die

If we must die, let it not be like hogs
Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,
While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,
Making their mock at our accursèd lot.
If we must die, O let us nobly die,
So that our precious blood may not be shed
In vain; then even the monsters we defy
Shall be constrained to honor us though dead!
O kinsmen! we must meet the common foe!
Though far outnumbered let us show us brave,
And for their thousand blows deal one death-blow!
What though before us lies the open grave?
Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack,
Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!












Robert-Louis-Stevenson-The-Hayloft

Robert Louis Stevenson - The Hayloft

Through all the pleasant meadow-side
The grass grew shoulder-high,
Till the shining scythes went far and wide
And cut it down to dry.

Those green and sweetly smelling crops
They led the waggons home;
And they piled them here in mountain tops
For mountaineers to roam.

Here is Mount Clear, Mount Rusty-Nail,
Mount Eagle and Mount High;--
The mice that in these mountains dwell,
No happier are than I!

Oh, what a joy to clamber there,
Oh, what a place for play,
With the sweet, the dim, the dusty air,
The happy hills of hay!


















Henry-Lawson-Do-They-Think-That-I-Do-Not-Know

Henry Lawson - Do They Think That I Do Not Know

They say that I never have written of love,
As a writer of songs should do;
They say that I never could touch the strings
With a touch that is firm and true;
They say I know nothing of women and men
In the fields where Love's roses grow,
And they say I must write with a halting pen
Do you think that I do not know?

When the love-burst came, like an English Spring,
In days when our hair was brown,
And the hem of her skirt was a sacred thing
And her hair was an angel's crown.
The shock when another man touched her arm,
Where the dancers sat round in a row;
The hope and despair, and the false alarm
Do you think that I do not know?

By the arbour lights on the western farms,
You remember the question put,
While you held her warm in your quivering arms
And you trembled from head to foot.
The electric shock from her finger tips,
And the murmuring answer low,
The soft, shy yielding of warm red lips
Do you think that I do not know?

She was buried at Brighton, where Gordon sleeps,
When I was a world away;
And the sad old garden its secret keeps,
For nobody knows to-day.
She left a message for me to read,
Where the wild wide oceans flow;
Do you know how the heart of a man can bleed
Do you think that I do not know?

I stood by the grave where the dead girl lies,
When the sunlit scenes were fair,
And the white clouds high in the autumn skies,
And I answered the message there.
But the haunting words of the dead to me
Shall go wherever I go.
She lives in the Marriage that Might Have Been
Do you think that I do not know?

They sneer or scoff, and they pray or groan,
And the false friend plays his part.
Do you think that the blackguard who drinks alone
Knows aught of a pure girl's heart?
Knows aught of the first pure love of a boy
With his warm young blood aglow,
Knows aught of the thrill of the world-old joy
Do you think that I do not know?

They say that I never have written of love,
They say that my heart is such
That finer feelings are far above;
But a writer may know too much.
There are darkest depths in the brightest nights,
When the clustering stars hang low;
There are things it would break his strong heart to write
Do you think that I do not know?
















Henry-Lawson-The-Bush-Girl

Henry Lawson - The Bush Girl

So you rode from the range where your brothers select,
Through the ghostly, grey Bush in the dawn—
You rode slowly at first, lest her heart should suspect
That you were so glad to be gone;
You had scarcely the courage to glance back at her
By the homestead receding from view,
And you breathed with relief as you rounded the spur,
For the world was a wide world to you.
Grey eyes that grow sadder than sunset or rain,
Fond heart that is ever more true,
Firm faith that grows firmer for watching in vain—
She'll wait by the slip-rails for you.
Ah! the world is a new and a wide one to you,
But the world to your sweetheart is shut,
For a change never comes to the lonely Bush homes
Of the stockyard, the scrub, and the hut;
And the only relief from its dulness she feels
When the ridges grow softened and dim,
And away in the dusk to the slip-rails she steals
To dream of past hours ‘with him.’
Do you think, where, in place of bare fences, dry creeks,
Clear streams and green hedges are seen—
Where the girls have the lily and rose in their cheeks,
And the grass in mid-summer is green—
Do you think, now and then, now or then, in the whirl
Of the town life, while London is new,
Of the hut in the Bush and the freckled-faced girl
Who waits by the slip-rails for you?
Grey eyes that are sadder than sunset or rain,
Bruised heart that is ever more true,
Fond faith that is firmer for trusting in vain—
She waits by the slip-rails for you.










John-Gould-Fletcher-Blue-Water

John Gould Fletcher - Blue Water

Sea-violins are playing on the sands;
  Curved bows of blue and white are flying over the pebbles,
  See them attack the chords--dark basses, glinting trebles.
  Dimly and faint they croon, blue violins.
  "Suffer without regret," they seem to cry,
  "Though dark your suffering is, it may be music,
  Waves of blue heat that wash midsummer sky;
  Sea-violins that play along the sands."






Edward-Thomas-And-You-Helen

Edward Thomas - And You Helen

And you, Helen, what should I give you?
So many things I would give you
Had I an infinite great store
Offered me and I stood before
To choose. I would give you youth,
All kinds of loveliness and truth,
A clear eye as good as mine,
Lands, waters, flowers, wine,
As many children as your heart
Might wish for, a far better art
Than mine can be, all you have lost
Upon the travelling waters tossed,
Or given to me. If I could choose
Freely in that great treasure-house
Anything from any shelf,
I would give you back yourself,
And power to discriminate
What you want and want it not too late,
Many fair days free from care
And heart to enjoy both foul and fair,
And myself, too, if I could find
Where it lay hidden and it proved kind.

















Thomas-Hardy-Ah-Are-You-Digging-on-My-Grave

Thomas Hardy - Ah, Are You Digging on My Grave?

Ah, are you digging on my grave
My loved one?--planting rue?"
--"No; yesterday he went to wed
One of the brightest wealth has bred.
'It cannot hurt her now,' he said,
That I 'should not be true.'"

Then who is digging on my grave?
My nearest dearest kin?"
--"Ah, no; they sit and think, 'What use!
What good will planting flowers produce?
No tendance of her mound can loose
Her spirit from Death's gin.'"

But someone digs upon my grave?
My enemy?--prodding sly?"
--"Nay; when she heard you had passed the Gate
That shuts on all flesh soon or late,
She thought you no more worth her hate,
And cares not where you lie."

Then, who is digging on my grave?
Say--since I have not guessed!"
--"0 it is I, my mistress dear,
Your little dog, who still lives near,
And much I hope my movements here
Have not disturbed your rest?"

Ah, yes! You dig upon my grave . . .
Why flashed it not on me
That one true heart was left behind!
What feeling do we ever find
To equal among humankind
A dog's fidelity!"

Mistress, I dug upon your grave
To bury a bone, in case
I should be hungry near this spot
When passing on my daily trot.
I am sorry, but I quite forgot
It was your resting-place."












Henry-Lawson-After-All

Henry Lawson - After All

The brooding ghosts of Australian night have gone from the bush and town;
My spirit revives in the morning breeze,
though it died when the sun went down;
The river is high and the stream is strong,
and the grass is green and tall,
And I fain would think that this world of ours is a good world after all.

The light of passion in dreamy eyes, and a page of truth well read,
The glorious thrill in a heart grown cold of the spirit I thought was dead,
A song that goes to a comrade's heart, and a tear of pride let fall --
And my soul is strong! and the world to me is a grand world after all!

Let our enemies go by their old dull tracks,
and theirs be the fault or shame
(The man is bitter against the world who has only himself to blame);
Let the darkest side of the past be dark, and only the good recall;
For I must believe that the world, my dear, is a kind world after all.

It well may be that I saw too plain, and it may be I was blind;
But I'll keep my face to the dawning light,
though the devil may stand behind!
Though the devil may stand behind my back, I'll not see his shadow fall,
But read the signs in the morning stars of a good world after all.

Rest, for your eyes are weary, girl -- you have driven the worst away --
The ghost of the man that I might have been is gone from my heart to-day;
We'll live for life and the best it brings till our twilight shadows fall;
My heart grows brave, and the world, my girl, is a good world after all.

















Edward-Thomas-Adlestrop

Edward Thomas - Adlestrop

Yes. I remember Adlestrop—
The name, because one afternoon
Of heat the express-train drew up there
Unwontedly. It was late June.

The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat.
No one left and no one came
On the bare platform. What I saw
Was Adlestrop—only the name

And willows, willow-herb, and grass,
And meadowsweet, and haycocks dry,
No whit less still and lonely fair
Than the high cloudlets in the sky.

And for that minute a blackbird sang
Close by, and round him, mistier,
Farther and farther, all the birds
Of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire.















Short-Poetry-Collection-134

Short Poetry Collection 134


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Fim - Mário de Sá-Carneiro

Sonnet 18 - William Shakespeare

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Sonho Branco - Broquéis - João da Cruz e Sousa

Bandido negro - Os Escravos - Castro Alves

As cismas do destino - Augusto dos Anjos - Eu e Outras Poesia

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Mein Kampf - Adolf Hitler - Download PDF Livro Online

Leonor de Mendonça - Antônio Gonçalves Dias

Abel e Helena- Artur Azevedo

Outras Poesias - Augusto dos Anjos

Amor De Perdição - Camilo Castelo Branco

As Flores do Mal - Charles Baudelaire

David Copperfield - Charles Dickens

Faróis - Cruz e Sousa

Hell or The Inferno from The divine comedy - Dante Alighieri

A Ilustre Casa de Ramires - Eça de Queiros - PDF

Contos Extraordinários - Edgar Allan Poe

Canudos e outros temas - Euclides da Cunha - PDF

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Livro Do Desassossego - Fernando Pessoa - Livros em PDF para Download

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O Último Magnata - Francis Scott Fitzgerald

The Metamorphosis - Franz Kafka - PDF

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Moby Dick - Herman Melville

Teogonía - Hesíodo

Odisséia - Homero - Download

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Emma - Jane Austen - Download PDF Livro Online

Fausto - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Viagens de Gulliver - Jonathan Swift

Alfarrábios: o Ermitão da Glória - José de Alencar

O Coração das Trevas - Joseph Conrad

A mulher de Anacleto - Lima Barreto - Livros em PDF para Download

Anna Karenina - Leon Tolstói - Download

Os Lusíadas - Luís Vaz de Camões - Download

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Marcel Proust - Download PDF Livro Online

Amar verbo intransitivo - Mário de Andrade - PDF Download Livro Online

Don Quixote - Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

Metamorfoses II - Públio Ovídio Naso

As jóias da Coroa - Raul Pompeia - PDF Download Livro Online

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A Montanha Mágica - Thomas Mann

Eeldrop and Appleplex - T. S. Eliot - Thomas Stearns Eliot

Marília De Dirceu - Tomás Antônio Gonzaga - PDF Download Livro Online

O Corcunda de Notre-Dame - Victor Hugo - PDF Download Livro Online

Eneida - Virgilio

O Quarto de Jacob - Virginia Woolf - PDF

A Tempestade - William-Shakespeare - Livros em PDF para Download

O Som e a Fúria - William Faulkner

Bíblia Sagrada - João Ferreira de Almeida - Bíblia

Bíblia Sagrada - Católica

O Vermelho e o Negro - Stendhal - Henri-Marie Beyle

O Homem Sem Qualidades - Robert Musil

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Selfish - PnB Rock

Setting Fires - The Chainsmokers Featuring XYLO

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Used To This - Future Featuring Drake

On The Regular - Meek Mill

Two Birds, One Stone - Drake

Offended - Meek Mill Featuring Young Thug & 21 Savage

Froze - Meek Mill Featuring Lil Uzi Vert & Nicki Minaj

Better Man - Little Big Town

Litty - Meek Mill Featuring Tory Lanez

What They Want - Russ - Song Lyrics

Shout Out To My Ex - Little Mix - Song Lyrics

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Closer - The Chainsmokers ft. Halsey - Letras de Música

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Audiobook, Educação Infantil, Ensino Fundamental


Jogos para Crianças - Atividades Educativas Ensino Fundamental

Jogos para Crianças - Atividades Educativas Ensino Fundamental

Jogos para Crianças - Atividades Educativas Ensino Fundamental

Jogos para Crianças - Atividades Educativas Ensino Fundamental

Jogos para Crianças - Atividades Educativas Ensino Fundamental

Jogos para Crianças - Atividades Educativas Ensino Fundamental

Jogos para Crianças - Atividades Educativas Ensino Fundamental

Jogos para Crianças - Atividades Educativas Ensino Fundamental

Jogos para Crianças - Atividades Educativas Ensino Fundamental

Jogos para Crianças - Atividades Educativas Ensino Fundamental

Atividades Educativas Ensino Fundamental - Aprendendo sobre o Dinheiro

Progress 4GL - DDK-GUI - Datasul

Your Attidute Against SAP Business All-In-One Projects

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

Os Sertões - Euclides da Cunha

Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen

TOP 50: BLOG by Sanderlei Silveira


Bounce Back - Big Sean

All at Sea - Frederick Moxon

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

As festas populares no estado de São Paulo - SP

Os imigrantes no século XIX e XX no estado do Paraná - PR

Pantanal – Patrimônio Natural da Humanidade - MS

Os símbolos do estado do Rio de Janeiro - RJ

Prédios mais altos do Mundo e do Brasil (Atualizado até 11/2016)

Idade das Religiões - História

Los Naranjos - Ignacio Manuel Altamirano

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

Tendências de mercado - Economia em 1 Minuto

Ismalia - Alphonsus de Guimaraens

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

Capítulo VI - A FRANCESA E O GIGANTE - Macunaíma - Mário de Andrade

Comentários da semana - Crônica - Machado de Assis

CAPÍTULO X / A ENFERMA - Helena - Machado de Assis

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

CAPÍTULO VI / O POST SCRIPTUM - A Mão e a Luva

AS BODAS DE LUÍS DUARTE

CAPÍTULO IV - Quincas Borba - Machado de Assis

Poesias dispersas - Machado de Assis

TIO COSME - Dom Casmurro

A CHINELA TURCA - Papéis Avulsos

RAZÃO CONTRA SANDICE - Memórias Póstumas de Brás Cubas - Machado de Assis

NEM CASAL, NEM GENERAL - Esaú e Jacó - Machado de Assis

Age of Religions - History

La Edad de las Religiones - Historia

Salmos 22 - Bíblia

Totvs - Datasul - Treinamento Online (Gratuito)

SAP Business All-In-One Rapid-Deployment Solution Overview

O HOMEM - Os Sertões - Euclides da Cunha - Áudio Livro

Crônica dos burros - Machado de Assis - Áudio Livro

Querida Kitty - O Diário de Anne Frank

Iaiá Garcia – Machado de Assis - Livros em PDF para Download (Domínio Público)

Curso de Inglês Online - Grátis e Completo

Curso de Espanhol Online - Grátis e Completo

Hamlet - William Shakespeare - AudioBook

Contos - Lima Barreto - Áudio Livro - Audiobook

A Conselho do Marido - Contos - Artur de Azevedo

Diva - José de Alencar - Audiobook

A mãe do cativo - Os Escravos - Castro Alves

Antífona - Broquéis - João da Cruz e Sousa

Civilização - Contos de Eça de Queirós

A Esperança - Augusto dos Anjos - Eu e Outras Poesias

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

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

Festa de Aniversário - Educação Infantil - Nível 2 (crianças entre 5 a 7 anos)

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

Descobrimento do Brasil - Educação Infantil - Nível 4 (crianças entre 7 a 9 anos)

Água - Educação Infantil - Nível 5 (crianças entre 8 a 10 anos)

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


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