To an Early Friend in Great Distress (Emily Mary Barton Poems)
Oh, CAN it be that space and yearsHave so divided thee and me,That thou art weeping bitter tearsWhile round me ...
Oh, CAN it be that space and yearsHave so divided thee and me,That thou art weeping bitter tearsWhile round me ...
Turn me loose and let me beYoung once more and fancy free;Let me wander where I will,Down the lane and ...
I have no wish, my little lad, To climb the towering heights of fame.I am content to be your dad ...
Follow the pictured forms that Vandyck drew,One life-wide lesson thou mayst learn;Each happy gift, each perfect work and true,Thou to ...
When the hair about the temples starts to show the signs of gray,And a fellow realizes that he's wandering far ...
He has heard his country calling, and has fallen into line, And he's doing something bigger than his ...
YEAR after year the cowslips fill the meadow, Year after year the skylarks thrill the air, Year after year, in ...
His mighty weapon drawing, God smites the world he loves; Thus, worthy of him growing, ...
LThis is the perfect crown of all things here! So proud am I, in my own self-esteem, I touch myself ...
O wilt Thou on the day when all is sifted, All heights of Heaven, all depths of Hell laid ...
'Tis not in hollow wood and tinkling wire To be the wonder I would have them be; Contrive my spells ...
Then his brain snapped, or he swore it did; and soNever was he more sane: for it must be Their ...
It was pleasant up the country, City Bushman, where you went, For you sought the greener patches and you travelled ...
In pious times, ere priest-craft did begin, Before polygamy was made a sin; When man, on many, multipli'd his kind, ...
Chorus.-Bonie lassie, will ye go, Will ye go, will ye go, Bonie lassie, will ye go To the birks of ...
The true improvement of life. Ps. 90:12. Ane is this life prolonged to me? Are days and seasons giv'n? O ...
Nothing is given which is not taken. Little or nothing is taken which is not freely desired, freely, truly and ...
He's the man from Eldorado, and he's just arrived in town, In moccasins and oily buckskin shirt. He's gaunt as ...
O Sacred Muse, my lyre excuse! - My verse is vagrant singing; Rhyme I invoke for simple folk Of penny-wise ...
LORD BUDDHA, on thy Lotus-throne, With praying eyes and hands elate, What mystic rapture dost thou own, Immutable and ultimate? ...
The quick sparks on the gorse bushes are leaping, Little jets of sunlight-texture imitating flame; Above them, exultant, the peewits ...
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