The Old Farm (Jared Barhite Poems)
The dear old farm has a sacred charm That extends to farthest bound, Every rock and tree is dear to me, And hallowed ...
The dear old farm has a sacred charm That extends to farthest bound, Every rock and tree is dear to me, And hallowed ...
It is related that, whilst some game was being roasted for Nushirvan the just during a hunting party, no salt ...
THE PARTING HOUR.Minutely trace man's life; year after year,Through all his days let all his deeds appear,And then though some ...
What holy rites Mohammed's laws ordain,What various duties bind his faithful train,—What pious zeal his scatter'd tribes unitesIn fix'd observance ...
I 'T is the middle of night on the Greenfield farm And the creatures are huddled to keep them from ...
I stood at sunrise, on the topmost partOf lofty mountain, massively sublime;A pinnacle of trachyte, seamed and scarredBy countless generations' ...
Let now the goodly Spring-tide make us merrie, And fields, which pleasant flowers doo adorne: And Vales, Meades, ...
When first thou didst entice to thee my heart, I thought the service brave;So many joyes I ...
Last was the wealth I carried in life's pack—Youth, health, ambition, hope and trust but TimeAnd Fate, those robbers fit ...
Giving thee once a visit of respect, Because I some affaires could not ...
My love is like to ice, and I to fire:How comes it then that this her cold so greatIs not ...
When thou didst entice to thee my heart, I thought the service brave: So many joys I writ down for ...
We Cover Thee -- Sweet Face -- Not that We tire of Thee -- But that Thyself fatigue of Us ...
BY QUEVEDO REDIVIVUS SUGGESTED BY THE COMPOSITION SO ENTITLED BY THE AUTHOR OF 'WAT TYLER' 'A Daniel come to judgment! ...
To the Memory of the Household It Describes This Poem is Dedicated by the Author "As the Spirit of Darkness ...
My love is like to ice, and I to fire: how comes it then that this her cold so great ...
My love is like to ice, and I to fire: How comes it then that this her cold so great ...
MY loue is lyke to yse, and I to fyre; how comes it then that this her cold so great ...
'Twas in a little western town An ancient Maiden dwelt: Her name was MISS, or MISTRESS, Brown, Or DEBORAH, or ...
No more of talk where God or Angel guest With Man, as with his friend, familiar us'd, To sit indulgent, ...
All night the dreadless Angel, unpursued, Through Heaven's wide champain held his way; till Morn, Waked by the circling Hours, ...
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