Old Robin (John Townsend Trowbridge Poems)
SELL old Robin, do you say? Well, I reckon not today!I have let you have your way with the land,With ...
SELL old Robin, do you say? Well, I reckon not today!I have let you have your way with the land,With ...
The Loch Achray was a clipper tallWith seven-and-twenty hands in all.Twenty to hand and reef and haul,A skipper to sail ...
Ere the last light that leaps the night has hung and shone and died,While yet the breast-high fog of dawn ...
When summer came, we locked up our lives and fledto the woods in Maine, and pulled up over our headsa ...
WHEN Heaven was stormy, Earth was cold,And sunlight shunned the wold and wave,--Thought burrowed in the churchyard mould,And fed on ...
You who do not want to believeyou have never looked into your brainsI have looked into my brainI have looked ...
All night they marched, the infantrymen under pack,But the hands gripping the rifles were naked boneAnd the hollow pits of ...
A cow boy and his trusty palWere camped one night by an old corral;They were keeping a line on the ...
(SIERRAS)We checked our pace, the red road sharply rounding; We heard the troubled flowOf the dark olive depths of pines ...
MY tower was grimly builded, With many a bolt and bar, "And here," I thought, "I will keep my life ...
"The Treasure and the Low"--Puck of Pook's Hills. Where first by Eden Tree The Four Great Rivers ran, To each ...
Roll over, snooze hit Warm covers, cold morn Morning light Piercing my slumber Out the window Down below My barn ...
Death is like the insect Menacing the tree, Competent to kill it, But decoyed may be. Bait it with the ...
See how her hair has thinned: it does not seem / like hair at all, but like the airy moult ...
We burrowed night and day with tools of lead, Heaped the bank up and cast it in a ring And ...
I strolled up old Bonanza, where I staked in ninety-eight, A-purpose to revisit the old claim. I kept thinking mighty ...
Beyond the Rocking Bridge it lies, the burg of evil fame, The huts where hive and swarm and thrive the ...
There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have ...
The Loch Achray was a clipper tall With seven-and-twenty hands in all. Twenty to hand and reef and haul, A ...
In borrowed boots which don't fit and an old olive greatcoat, I hunt the corn-fed rabbit, game fowl, squirrel, starved ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories