Fame (James Whitcomb Riley Poems)
IOnce, in a dream, I saw a man With haggard face and tangled hair,And eyes that nursed as wild a care As ...
IOnce, in a dream, I saw a man With haggard face and tangled hair,And eyes that nursed as wild a care As ...
Dear Sirs:I have been enjoying the law and order of ourcommunity throughout the past three months sincemy wife and I, ...
As the bright flowers start from their wintry tomb, I've sprung from the depths of futurity's gloom; With the glory of Hope ...
HERE let me pause by the lone eagle's nest,And breathe the ...
I WOULD the gift I offer hereMight graces from thy favor take,And, seen through Friendship's atmosphere,On softened lines and coloring, ...
-for perfidious protectorsI was playing in the streetno one paid attention to meas I made forms out of sandmumbling Rimbaud ...
_Stanzas from "Onegin"_Our Northern Winter's fickle Summer,Than Southern Winter scarce more bland--Is undeniably withdrawingOn fleeting footsteps from the land.Soon will ...
The crimson color lays As bright as beauty's blush along the West; And a warm golden ...
I stood on the brow of the hill; to the West The sunset glories were tenderly prest,And out of the ...
DOWN the lanes of boyhood, let me go once more, Let me tread the paths of youth that I have ...
Her little hands so purposeful opening each packet stirring the sugar, the creamer (a suggestion of her sister). A spill ...
Human hearts, urged to share touched, inspired differently. Different speakers, these writers witnesses, seeing the world, his life subtle variations ...
The red of His blood, the green of hope, for us of the promise of the sheltered valley our future ...
Unlike yesterday, Christmas Day a more leisurely start, middle, and end of the day, at least so far Awake more ...
Shy and Shane sat watching the rain a duck waddled by our window pane There was no sun, not anywhere ...
Made him to be sin, stained with our blood the read stain of our unfaithfulness, washed over him coloring him ...
Each picture is heartbreakingly banal, a kitten and a ball of yarn, a dog and bone. The paper is cheap, ...
Before my drift-wood fire I sit, And see, with every waif I burn, Old dreams and fancies coloring it, And ...
Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream! My spirit not awakening, till the beam Of an Eternity should ...
I. My face resembles your face less and less each day. When I was young no one mistook whose child ...
Words are like days: coloring books or pickpockets, signposts or scratching posts, fakirs over hot coals. Certain words must be ...
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