Lily-Bell and Thistledown Song I (Louisa May Alcott Poem)
Awake! Awake! for the earliest gleam Of golden sunlight shines On the rippling waves, that brightly flow Beneath the flowering ...
Awake! Awake! for the earliest gleam Of golden sunlight shines On the rippling waves, that brightly flow Beneath the flowering ...
Lo giorno se n'andava, e l'aere bruno toglieva li animai che sono in terra da le fatiche loro; e io ...
Per me si va ne la citt? dolente, per me si va ne l'etterno dolore, per me si va tra ...
Happy the lab'rer in his Sunday clothes! In light-drab coat, smart waistcoat, well-darn'd hose, Andhat upon his head, to church ...
This is just a place: we go around, distanced, yearly in a star's atmosphere, turning daily into and out of ...
I don't know somehow it seems sufficient to see and hear whatever coming and going is, losing the self to ...
So I said I am Ezra and the wind whipped my throat gaming for the sounds of my voice I ...
Far from the Rappahannock, the silent Danube moves along toward the sea. The brown and green Nile rolls slowly Like ...
What name do I have for you? Certainly there is not name for you In the sense that the stars ...
As Parmigianino did it, the right hand Bigger than the head, thrust at the viewer And swerving easily away, as ...
So many stones have been thrown at me, That I'm not frightened of them anymore, And the pit has become ...
An Arab shepherd is searching for his goat on Mount Zion And on the opposite hill I am searching for ...
Half the people in the world love the other half, half the people hate the other half. Must I because ...
Far, far from here, The Adriatic breaks in a warm bay Among the green Illyrian hills; and there The sunshine ...
Glion?--Ah, twenty years, it cuts All meaning from a name! White houses prank where once were huts. Glion, but not ...
How changed is here each spot man makes or fills! In the two Hinkseys nothing keeps the same; The village ...
Through Alpine meadows soft-suffused With rain, where thick the crocus blows, Past the dark forges long disused, The mule-track from ...
And you, ye stars, Who slowly begin to marshal, As of old, in the fields of heaven, Your distant, melancholy ...
And the first grey of morning fill'd the east, And the fog rose out of the Oxus stream. But all ...
Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill; Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes! No longer leave thy ...
This is a word we use to plug holes with. It's the right size for those warm blanks in speech, ...
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