The Iron Horse (James Whitcomb Riley Poems)
No song is mine of Arab steed-- My courser is of nobler blood,And cleaner limb and fleeter speed, And greater strength and ...
No song is mine of Arab steed-- My courser is of nobler blood,And cleaner limb and fleeter speed, And greater strength and ...
A gaunt and relentless wolf, possessed Of a quite insatiable thirst, Once paused at a stream to drink and rest, And found that, ...
Oh, the Circus-Day parade! How the bugles played and played!And how the glossy horses tossed their flossy manes, and neighed,As ...
The sunburnt ---- stockman stoodAnd, in a dismal ---- mood,Apostrophized his ---- cuddy;'The ---- nag's no ---- good,He couldn't earn ...
I had ridden over hurdles up the country once or twice,By the side of Snowy River with a horse they ...
Through Goshen Hollow, where hemlocks grow, Where rushing rills, with flash and flow, Are over the rough rocks falling; Where ...
Count the white horses you meet on the way,Count the white horses, child day after day,Keep a wish ready for ...
Master went a-hunting, When the leaves were falling; We saw him on the bridle path, We heard him gaily calling. ...
Far below us in a hollow Slumber'ing in the morning haze, Lay the quaint, old mining township, Relic of the ...
The colours of the setting sun Withdrew across the Western land- He raised the sliprails, one by one, And shot ...
It was pleasant up the country, City Bushman, where you went, For you sought the greener patches and you travelled ...
SOME wit, handsome form and gen'rous mind; A triple engine prove in love we find; By these the strongest fortresses ...
"Zipless sex" one cynic called this festival of fornication, this celebration of new-found sexual strength and urbane honesty, of sex ...
S. Patrick. You who are bent, and bald, and blind, With a heavy heart and a wandering mind, Have known ...
This is a poem I wrote before I died and was reborn: - After the years of the apples ripening ...
The new chum's polo pony was the smartest pony yet -- The owner backed it for the Cup for all ...
What have the cavalry done? Cantered and trotted about, Routin' the enemy out, Causin' the beggars to run! And we ...
I'M travellin' down the Castlereagh, and I'm a station hand, I'm handy with the ropin' pole, I'm handy with the ...
Aleta mentions in her tender letters, Among a chain of quaint and touching things, That you are feeble, weighted down ...
A little colt - broncho, loaned to the farm To be broken in time without fury or harm, Yet black ...
As you travel through life there are always those times When decisions just have to be made, When the choices ...
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