High Noon. (Ella Wheeler Wilcox Poems)
Time's finger on the dial of my lifePoints to high noon! and yet the half-spent dayLeaves less than half remaining, ...
Time's finger on the dial of my lifePoints to high noon! and yet the half-spent dayLeaves less than half remaining, ...
Four horseman rode out from the heart of the range,Four horseman with aspects forbidding and strange.They were booted and spurred, ...
h, these old friends of ours! Sixty years back, Bearded and booted, they followed the track, Came like their Saxon ...
Too good for the knacker, too poor for the lurry!Let him go to the army that buys in a hurry!Too ...
Behold, once more, facetious BenSteps from his paste to take the pen;And as the trumpets, shrill and loud,Precede the sheriff's ...
Dark lady of the laggard dawn, Hiding within her gully deep;Long have night's curtains been withdrawn Before her earliest sun-shaft's ...
The diggers came from Bendigo, From Albury the drovers,From where the Goulburn waters flowCame bearded teamsters travelling slow. ...
Up from the prairie and through the pines,Over your struggling headboard linesWinds of the West go by.You must love them, ...
(Europe Conquers America.) Strong for the strong and in his own conceit; Half-boy, half-madman, playing with the fire; Usurper, hoodlum, ...
1 A yellow band of light upon the street Pours from an open door, and makes a wide Pathway of ...
I Over the yawning chimney hangs the fog. Drip -- hiss -- drip -- hiss -- fall the raindrops on ...
Listen my children and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April, in ...
Why is that wanton gossip Fame So dumb about this man's affairs? Why do we titter at his name Who ...
What the moral? Who rides may read. When the night is thick and the tracks are blind A friend at ...
A WIT, transported with Inditing, Unpay'd, unprais'd, yet ever Writing; Who, for all Fights and Fav'rite Friends, Had Poems at ...
A crystalline awakening on the plateau, the crisp air as brittle as new celery snaps with expectancy. The cold clings ...
Here is the city- its worn-down mountains, its grass and iron, its smoky coast seen from the high roads on ...
'Twas after dread Pultowa's day, When fortune left the royal Swede - Around a slaughtered army lay, No more to ...
Time's finger on the dial of my life Points to high noon! And yet the half-spent day Leaves less than ...
Blats booted to blatant dubbing the avenue dire with rubbings of Sveinn Forkbeard leading a black squall of Harleys with ...
Vous êtes sorti sain et sauf des basses calomnies, vous avey conquis les coeurs. Zola, J'accuse One was kicked in ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories