Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=429679" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>On the Great Atlantic Rainway</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I set forth one misted white day of June<br>Beneath the great Atlantic rainway, and heard:<br>“Honestly you smite worlds of truth, but<br>Lose your own trains of thought, like a pigeon.<br>Did you once ride in Kenneth’s machine?”<br>“Yes, I rode there, an old man in shorts, blind,<br>Who had lost his way in the filling station; Kenneth was kind.”<br>“Did he fill your motionless ears with resonance and stain?”<br>“No, he spoke not as a critic, but as a man.”<br>“Tell me, what did he say?” “He said,<br>‘My eyes are the white sky, the gravel on the groundway my sad lament.’”<br>“And yet he drives between the two. . . .” “Exactly, Jane,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And that is the modern idea of fittingness,<br>To, always in motion, lose nothing, although beneath the<br>Rainway they move in threes and twos completely<br>Ruined for themselves, like moving pictures.”<br>“But how other?” “Formulalessness, to go from the sun<br>Into love’s sweet disrepair. He would fondly express<br>‘Rain trees’—which is not a poem, ‘rain trees. . . .’”<br>“Still, it is mysterious to have an engine<br>That floats bouquets! and one day in the rear-vision<br>Mirror of his car we vowed delight,<br>The insufficiency of the silverware in the sunlight,<br>The dreams he steals from and smiles, losing gain.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Yet always beneath the rainway unsyntactical<br>Beauty might leap up!” “That we might sing<br>From smiles’ ravines, ‘Rose, the reverse of everything,<br>May be profaned or talked at like a hat.’”<br>“Oh that was sweet and short, like the minuet<br>Of stars, which would permit us to seem our best friends<br>By silver’s eminent lights! For nature is so small, ends<br>Falsely reign, distending the time we did<br>Behind our hope for body-work, riding with Kenneth.”<br>Their voicing ceased, then started again, to complain<br>That we are offered nothing when it starts to rain<br>In the same way, though we are dying for the truth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>“On the Great Atlantic Rainway” from The Collected Poems of Kenneth Koch, published by Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. Copyright © 2006 by Kenneth Koch</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Kenneth+Koch">Kenneth Koch</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=429679" data-title="On the Great Atlantic Rainway de Kenneth Koch" data-description="I set forth one misted white day of June
Beneath the great Atlantic rainway, and heard:
“Honestly you smite worlds of truth, but
Lose your own trains of thought, like a pigeon.
Did you once ride in Kenneth’s machine?”
“Yes, I rode there, a..."></div>
</div>
</div>