Supper at the Mill (Jean Ingelow Poems)
Mother.Well, Frances.Frances.Well, good mother, how are you?M. I'm hearty, lass, but warm; the weather's warm:I think 'tis mostly warm on ...
Mother.Well, Frances.Frances.Well, good mother, how are you?M. I'm hearty, lass, but warm; the weather's warm:I think 'tis mostly warm on ...
O days endeared to every Muse,When nobody had any Views,Nor, while the cloudscape of his mindBy every breeze was new ...
TO the Wake of O'HaraCame company;All St. Patrick's AlleyWas there to see,With the friends and kinsmenOf the family.On the long ...
In the forenoon's restful quiet, When the boys are off at school, When the window lights are shaded And the chimney-corner cool, Then the ...
Condemn'd by Fate to way-ward Curse, Of Friends unkind, and empty Purse: Plagues worse than fill'd ...
Poor, pretty little thing she was, The sweetest-faced of girls, With eyes as blue as larkspurs, And ...
To BEVERLEY TUCKER, ESQUIRE, GREETING: Dear BEV. this greeting goes to you across the Atlantic brine, From the little room ...
When things are holding wonted paceIn wonted paths, without a traceOr hint of neighbouring wonder,Sometimes, from other realms, a tone,A ...
Summer fading, winter comes-- Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs, Window robins, winter rooks, And the picture story-books. Water now is turned ...
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