Heartsease And Rue: Friendship (James Russell Lowell Poems)
I.AGASSIZ Come Dicesti _egli ebbe?_ non viv' egli ancora? Non fiere gli occhi suoi lo dolce lome?IThe electric nerve, whose ...
I.AGASSIZ Come Dicesti _egli ebbe?_ non viv' egli ancora? Non fiere gli occhi suoi lo dolce lome?IThe electric nerve, whose ...
CANTO I.Fanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weaveA paradise for a sect; the savage, too,From forth the loftiest fashion of ...
At that dread season when th' indignant NorthPour'd to vain wars her tardy numbers forth,When Frederic bent his ear to ...
Clear is the sky, and temperate the air,That, scarcely stirring, wafts, with gentlest breath,The gossamer light glittering in the sun.And ...
Ugliest little boythat everyone ever saw.That is what everyone said.Even to his mother it was apparent-when the blue-aproned nurse came ...
Under the orchard boughs, That drop red leaves like coals into the grass. The golden arrows of the sunset fall; And on the ...
My thoughts, like sailors becalmed in Cape Town harbor,Await your return, like a favorable wind, or likeNew tackle for the ...
Today I sawA market cart going along the road,High-piled and creaking with a sonsy loadOf cabbages.The driver satUnder a little ...
All on a windy morn in lusty March,Rode Godwin hawking thro' his father's woodsAnd singing as he rode: stalwart was ...
Far reaching down's a solid sea sunk everlastingly to rest, And yet whose billows seem to be for ever heaving ...
The snow lies deep on hill and dale,In rocky gulch and grassy vale,The tiny, trickling, tumbling fallsAre frozen 'twixt their ...
Great cities rise and have their fall; the brassThat held their glories moulders in its turn.Hard granite rots like an ...
O dancer with the dove-swift feet and hands,So palely swayingAgainst the moon's replenished rondure,Thou treadest not this autumn ground alone:But ...
When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain, Before high-piled ...
1 A SONG of the good green grass! A song no more of the city streets; A song of farms-a ...
I am a Day . . . My sky is grey, My wind is wild, My sea high-piled: In year ...
Here was a man who watched the river flow Past the huge town, one gray November day. Round him in ...
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