Punchin’ Dough (Henry Herbert Knibbs Poems)
Come, all you young waddies, I'll sing you a song,Stand back from the wagon--stay where you belong:I've heard you observin' ...
Come, all you young waddies, I'll sing you a song,Stand back from the wagon--stay where you belong:I've heard you observin' ...
When snow is here, and the trees look weird, And the knuckled twigs are gloved with frost;When the breath congeals in ...
When snow is here, and the trees look weird,And the knuckled twigs are gloved with frost;When the breath congeals in ...
Like a small greycoffee-pot,sits the squirrel.He is notall he should be,kills by dozenstrees, and eatshis red-brown cousins.The keeper on theother ...
Through the open French window the warm sunLights up the polished breakfast-table, laidRound a bowl of crimson roses, for one ...
Bath The day is fresh-washed and fair, and there is a smell of tulips and narcissus in the air. The ...
She had thought the studio would keep itself; no dust upon the furniture of love. Half heresy, to wish the ...
1 You, once a belle in Shreveport, with henna-colored hair, skin like a peachbud, still have your dresses copied from ...
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