Written January 1, 1832. (Henry Alford Poems)
The year is born to--day--methinks it hath A chilly time of it; for down the sky The flaky frost--cloud stretches, and the ...
The year is born to--day--methinks it hath A chilly time of it; for down the sky The flaky frost--cloud stretches, and the ...
1 When biting Boreas, fell and doure,2 Sharp shivers thro' the leafless bow'r;3 When Phobus gies a short-liv'd glow'r,4 Far ...
NOW Winter pours his terrors o'er the plain,And icy barriers close the wild domain,From the fierce North the sweeping blast ...
In that soft season, when descending show'rsCall forth the greens, and wake the rising flow'rs;When op'ning buds salute the welcome ...
THE LOVER'S JOURNEY.It is the Soul that sees: the outward eyesPresent the object, but the Mind descries;And thence delight, disgust, ...
1.Lord of the world's undying youth, What joys are in thy might!What beauties of the inner truth, And of the ...
'Tis a poor drizzly morning, dark and sad.The cloud has fallen, and filled with fold on foldThe chimneyed city; and ...
The mighty spirit, and its power, which stainsThe bloodless cheek, and vivifies the brains,I sing. Say, ye, its fiery vot'ries ...
January.Lo, my fair! the morning lazyPeeps abroad from yonder hill; Phoebus rises, red and hazy;Frost has stopp'd the village mill.February.All ...
I saw him on his throne, far in the north, Him ye call Winter, picturing him ever An ...
I've sipped a rich man's sparkling wine, His silverware I've handled. I've placed these battered legs of mine 'Neath tables ...
A bullet through his heart at dawn. On the table a letter signed with a woman's name. A wind that ...
Mulch, beside the house By the foundation, under the wet, Decaying broad oak leaves Renewing the soil, as they do ...
Sweet maple syrup, bitter radish, salad greens Tart lemon, juicy fruits Sour rhubarb, creamy sauces Raw meat, flaky fish rich ...
Oh it was fun to have a place where you could actually do it say, "I'll have the Usual" and ...
What's in a song John (or is it 'Knuckles'), what's in a song about an unemployed, suicidal bum, caught in ...
I. How well I know what I mean to do When the long dark autumn-evenings come: And where, my soul, ...
WHEN biting Boreas, fell and dour, Sharp shivers thro' the leafless bow'r; When Phoebus gies a short-liv'd glow'r, Far south ...
WHERE on the bosom of the foamy RHINE, In curling waves the rapid waters shine; Where tow'ring cliffs in awful ...
PALE GODDESS of the witching hour; Blest Contemplation's placid friend; Oft in my solitary bow'r, I mark thy lucid beam ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories