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Diffstat (limited to 'static/poems.js')
| -rw-r--r-- | static/poems.js | 162 | 
1 files changed, 149 insertions, 13 deletions
| diff --git a/static/poems.js b/static/poems.js index 52ecbbf..8599215 100644 --- a/static/poems.js +++ b/static/poems.js @@ -237,18 +237,12 @@ Faint as shed flowers, the attenuated dream.  `,          "link": "http://www.rossettiarchive.org/docs/sonnets.lcms.rad.html#21-1871",      }, -    { -    }, -    { -    }, -    { -    }, -    { -    }, -    { -    }, -    { -    }, +    {}, +    {}, +    {}, +    {}, +    {}, +    {},      {          "line": "The art of losing isnt hard to master".split(' '),          "scansion": 'x / x /x /x / x /x', @@ -382,11 +376,153 @@ Rage, rage against the dying of the light.  `,          "link": "https://poets.org/poem/do-not-go-gentle-good-night",      }, +    {}, +    {}, +    {}, +    {}, +    {}, +    {}, +    { +        "line": "Now is the winter of our discontent".split(' '), +        "scansion": '/ x x /x / x /x/', +        "title": "Richard III", +        "collection": null, +        "author": "William Shakespeare", +        "meter": "inverted iambic pentameter", +        "ctx": ` +Now is the winter of our discontent +Made glorious summer by this sun of York; +And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house +In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. +Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; +Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; +Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, +Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. +`, +        "link": "https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/56973/speech-now-is-the-winter-of-our-discontent", +    }, +    { +        "line": "Got a long list of exlovers".split(' '), +        "scansion": '/ x / x / x/x', +        "title": "Blank Space", +        "collection": null, +        "author": "Taylor Swift", +        "meter": "trochaic tetrameter", +        "ctx": ` +So it's gonna be forever +Or it's gonna go down in flames +You can tell me when it's over, mmh +If the high was worth the pain +Got a long list of ex-lovers +They'll tell you I'm insane +'Cause you know I love the players +And you love the game +`, +        "link": "https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-ORhEE9VVg", +    }, +    { +        "line": "Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us".split(' '), +        "scansion": '/ x x / x x /x x/ x', +        "title": "The Lost Leader", +        "collection": null, +        "author": "Robert Browning", +        "meter": "catalectic dactylic tetrameter", +        "ctx": ` +Just for a handful of silver he left us, +  Just for a riband[4] to stick in his coat— +Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us, +  Lost all the others she lets us devote; +They, with the gold to give, doled him out silver, +  So much was theirs who so little allowed: +How all our copper had gone for his service! +  Rags—were they purple, his heart had been proud! +`, +        "link": "https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Lost_Leader_(poem)", +    }, +    { +        "line": "Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house".split(' '), +        "scansion": 'x x / xx /x x / x x /', +        "title": "A Visit from St. Nicholas", +        "collection": null, +        "author": "Clement Clarke Moore", +        "meter": "anapestic tetrameter", +        "ctx": ` +'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house +Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; +The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, +In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there; +The children were nestled all snug in their beds; +While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; +And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, +Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap, +When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, +I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. +`, +        "link": "https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43171/a-visit-from-st-nicholas", +    }, +    { +        "line": "I am monarch of all I survey,".split(' '), +        "scansion": 'x x /x x / x x/', +        "title": "Verses Supposed to be Written by Alexander Selkirk", +        "collection": null, +        "author": "William Cowper", +        "meter": "anapestic trimeter", +        "ctx": ` +I am monarch of all I survey, +     My right there is none to dispute; +From the centre all round to the sea, +     I am lord of the fowl and the brute. +Oh, solitude! where are the charms +     That sages have seen in thy face? +Better dwell in the midst of alarms, +     Than reign in this horrible place. +`, +        "link": "http://www.luminarium.org/eightlit/cowper/selkirk.htm", +    }, +    { +        "line": "This has neither wax nor wane".split(' '), +        "scansion": '/ x /x / x /', +        "title": "Sorrow", +        "collection": null, +        "author": "Edna St. Vincent Millay", +        "meter": "catalectic iambic tetrameter", +        "ctx": ` +Sorrow like a ceaseless rain +Beats upon my heart. +People twist and scream in pain, — +Dawn will find them still again; +This has neither wax nor wane, +Neither stop nor start. + +People dress and go to town; +I sit in my chair. +All my thoughts are slow and brown: +Standing up or sitting down +Little matters, or what gown +Or what shoes I wear. +`, +        "link": "https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44727/sorrow-56d223efbf6d2", +    }, +    { +        "line": "With half a smile and half a spurn".split(' '), +        "scansion": 'x / x / x / x /', +        "title": "If you were coming in the fall", +        "collection": null, +        "author": "Emily Dickinson", +        "meter": "iambic tetrameter", +        "ctx": ` +If you were coming in the Fall, +I'd brush the Summer by +With half a smile, and half a spurn, +As Housewives do, a Fly. +`, +        "link": "https://allpoetry.com/If-you-were-coming-in-the-fall,", +    },  ]  /*      {          "line": "".split(' '), -        "scansion": [], +        "scansion": '',          "title": "",          "collection": null,          "author": "", | 
