Fitz Adam’s Story (James Russell Lowell Poems)
The next whose fortune 'twas a tale to tellWas one whom men, before they thought, loved well,And after thinking wondered ...
The next whose fortune 'twas a tale to tellWas one whom men, before they thought, loved well,And after thinking wondered ...
Somewhere in India, upon a time,(Read it not Injah, or you spoil the verse,) There dwelt two saints whose privilege sublimeIt ...
O Welcome simply soothing treasure!In midst o' pain my lanely pleasure!Tutor'd by thee, and whispering leisure, I quit the thrang,And, wrapt ...
'Tis like stirring living embers when, at eighty, one remembersAll the achings and the quakings of "the times that tried ...
WHEN we were farm boys, years ago,I dare not tell how many,When, strange to say, the fairest dayWas often dark ...
We who have walked deserted stubble fields on a December evening,Who have seen over the field's edge a soft river ...
Who stole sleep from baby's eyes? I must know. Clasping her pitcher to her waist mother went to fetch waterfrom the ...
The morning sea of silence broke into ripples of bird songs;and the flowers were all merry by the roadside;and the ...
I shall gladly suffer the pride of culture to die out in my house,if only in some happy future I ...
I asked nothing, only stood at theedge of the wood behind the tree. Languor was still upon the eyesof the dawn, ...
She dwelt here by the pool with its landing-stairs in ruins. Manyan evening she had watched the moon made dizzy ...
O you shaggy-headed banyan tree standing on the bank of the pond,have you forgotten the little child,like the birds that ...
Into all the onward current and this iron time that feels Its own way with din and clamour through this ...
The wind that through the forest blows May scatter leaves and blossoms wide. The parent tree but ...
She dwelt here by the pool with its landing-stairs in ruins. Many an evening she had watched the moon made ...
I shall gladly suffer the pride of culture to die out in my house, if only in some happy future ...
O you shaggy-headed banyan tree standing on the bank of the pond, have you forgotten the little chile, like the ...
I asked nothing, only stood at the edge of the wood behind the tree. Languor was still upon the eyes ...
The morning sea of silence broke into ripples of bird songs; and the flowers were all merry by the roadside; ...
I. "Another day, Ah! me, a day "Of dreary Sorrow is begun! "And still I loath the temper'd ray, "And ...
Dürer would have seen a reason for living in a town like this, with eight stranded whales to look at; ...
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