A Garden Of Girls (Edith Nesbit Poems)
KATE is like a violet, Gertrude's like a rose, Jane is like a gillyflower smart; But ...
KATE is like a violet, Gertrude's like a rose, Jane is like a gillyflower smart; But ...
My garden blossoms pink and white,A place of decorous murmuring,Where I am safe from August nightAnd cannot feel the knife ...
WE cannot know the child's deep heart,We cannot learn his grief;Though childhood still is dear to man,And the spent time ...
Jasmine blossoms round the arbour,Elder spreads along the air,Hollyhocks stand proudly tallestIn the fragrant thoroughfare.Pansies, like a 'broidered carpet,Through the ...
THE air without has taken fever; Fast I feel the beating of its pulse. The leaves are twisted on the ...
The tall yellow hollyhocks stand, Still and straight, With their round blossoms spread open, In the quiet sunshine. And still ...
Near where I live there is a lake As blue as blue can be, winds make It dance as they ...
Part First Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut the door. A storm was rising, heavy gusts of wind Swirled through the trees, ...
I own a solace shut within my heart, A garden full of many a quaint delight And warm with drowsy, ...
Bricks of the wall, so much older than the house - taken I think from a farm pulled down when ...
1FROM THE NURSERY When I was born, you waited behind a pile of linen in the nursery, and when we ...
1 I chopped down the house that you had been saving to live in next summer. I am sorry, but ...
I In my beginning is my end. In succession Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended, Are removed, destroyed, restored, ...
They take us by surprise, these tall perennials that jut like hollyhocks above the canopy of all the rest of ...
We knew that land once, You and I, and once we wandered there in the long days now long gone ...
MAKE war songs out of these; Make chants that repeat and weave. Make rhythms up to the ragtime chatter of ...
Dear Uncle Jim. this garden ground That now you smoke your pipe around, has seen immortal actions done And valiant ...
EVERY year Emily Dickinson sent one friend the first arbutus bud in her garden. In a last will and testament ...
ONCE when I saw a cripple Gasping slowly his last days with the white plague, Looking from hollow eyes, calling ...
EMILY DICKINSON: You gave us the bumble bee who has a soul, The everlasting traveler among the hollyhocks, And how ...
[They picked him up in the grass where he had lain two days in the rain with a piece of ...
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