From 12a8bd85312a98fa78d0791a2ec24a88bc6b8044 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: cyfraeviolae Date: Wed, 30 Mar 2022 00:23:49 -0400 Subject: more poems --- index.html | 32 +---------- static/poems.js | 162 +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++----- static/styles.css | 3 +- 3 files changed, 154 insertions(+), 43 deletions(-) diff --git a/index.html b/index.html index 9505f7f..fd12a43 100644 --- a/index.html +++ b/index.html @@ -42,39 +42,13 @@
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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": "", diff --git a/static/styles.css b/static/styles.css index 0f47b18..642750a 100644 --- a/static/styles.css +++ b/static/styles.css @@ -84,12 +84,13 @@ font-family: Cantarell; display: inline-block; height: 35px; - width: 26px; + width: 28px; border-radius: 4px; border: 1px black dotted; line-height: 35px; cursor: pointer; user-select: none; + margin-right: 2px; } .key:hover{ -- cgit v1.2.3