September (Helen Hunt Jackson Poem)
1 The golden-rod is yellow; 2 The corn is turning brown; 3 The trees in apple orchards 4 With fruit ...
1 The golden-rod is yellow; 2 The corn is turning brown; 3 The trees in apple orchards 4 With fruit ...
COME, dear old comrade, you and I Will steal an hour from days gone by, The shining days when life ...
Cloud-puffball, torn tufts, tossed pillows ' flaunt forth, then chevy on an air- built thoroughfare: heaven-roysterers, in gay-gangs ' they ...
Let others speak of her shame, I speak of my own. O Germany, pale mother! How soiled you are As ...
The little letters dance across the page, Flaunt and retire, and trick the tired eyes; Sick of the strain, the ...
LIFE ne'er exulted in so rich a prize, As Burnet, lovely from her native skies; Nor envious death so triumph'd ...
The very skies wee black with shame, As near my moment drew; The very hour before you cam I felt ...
The poppies that in Spring I sow, In rings of radiance gleam and glow, Like lords and ladies gay. A ...
WHERE we sat at dawn together, while the star-rich heavens shifted, We were weaving dreams in silence, suddenly the veil ...
I have tried an altenstil & dropped it. My skin is blazing, blazing too the way I see your faces ...
(ROOSEVELT) He turned aside to see the carcase of the lion: and behold, there was a swarm of bees and ...
THE knell of death, that on the twilight gale, Swells its deep murmur to the pensive ear; In awful sounds ...
BLEST be thy song, sweet NIGHTINGALE, Lorn minstrel of the lonely vale ! Where oft I've heard thy dulcet strain ...
FAIR was this blushing ROSE of May, And fresh it hail'd morn's breezy hour, When ev'ry spangled leaf look'd gay, ...
So you're back from up the country, Mister Lawson, where you went, And you're cursing all the business in a ...
You flaunt your beauty in the rose, your glory in the dawn, Your sweetness in the nightingale, your white- ness ...
A girl whom I've not spoken to or shared coffee with for several years writes of an old scar. On ...
To go home and wear shorts forever in the enormous paddocks, in that warm climate, adding a sweater when winter ...
If I were Lord of Tartary, Myself, and me alone, My bed should be of ivory, Of beaten gold my ...
Let not young souls be smothered out before They do quaint deeds and fully flaunt their pride. It is the ...
Frowning, the owl in the oak complained him Sore, that the song of the robin restrained him Wrongly of slumber, ...
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