Lily-Bell and Thistledown Song I (Louisa May Alcott Poem)
Awake! Awake! for the earliest gleam Of golden sunlight shines On the rippling waves, that brightly flow Beneath the flowering ...
Awake! Awake! for the earliest gleam Of golden sunlight shines On the rippling waves, that brightly flow Beneath the flowering ...
I have a life that did not become, that turned aside and stopped, astonished: I hold it in me like ...
Not under foreign skies Nor under foreign wings protected - I shared all this with my own people There, where ...
Far, far from here, The Adriatic breaks in a warm bay Among the green Illyrian hills; and there The sunshine ...
In this lone, open glade I lie, Screen'd by deep boughs on either hand; And at its end, to stay ...
Mist clogs the sunshine. Smoky dwarf houses Hem me round everywhere; A vague dejection Weighs down my soul. Yet, while ...
Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Greece, Long since, saw Byron's struggle cease. But one such death remain'd to come; The ...
Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill; Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes! No longer leave thy ...
THE BLUDE-RED rose at Yule may blaw, The simmer lilies bloom in snaw, The frost may freeze the deepest sea; ...
TRUE hearted was he, the sad swain o' the Yarrow, And fair are the maids on the banks of the ...
A ROSE-BUD by my early walk, Adown a corn-enclosed bawk, Sae gently bent its thorny stalk, All on a dewy ...
THE SMILING Spring comes in rejoicing, And surly Winter grimly flies; Now crystal clear are the falling waters, And bonie ...
IT was the charming month of May, When all the flow'rs were fresh and gay. One morning, by the break ...
I am like, They tell me, my dear father. Broader brows Howbeit, upon a slenderer undergrowth Of delicate ...
Say over again, and yet once over again, That thou dost love me. Though the word repeated Should seem 'a ...
What was he doing, the great god Pan, Down in the reeds by the river? Spreading ruin and scattering ban, ...
Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers, Ere the sorrow comes with years? They are leaning their young ...
O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stain'd With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit Beneath my shady ...
When the voices of children. are heard on the green And whisprings are in the dale: The days of my ...
Bury thy sorrows, and they shall rise As souls to the immortal skies, And there look down like mothers' eyes. ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories