The Woods (Hattie Howard Poems)
I love the woods when the magic hand Of Spring, as if sweeping the keys Of a wornout instrument, touches the earth; When ...
I love the woods when the magic hand Of Spring, as if sweeping the keys Of a wornout instrument, touches the earth; When ...
"GOOD Heavens, man, what a freak of taste!What blindness to form and feature!The girl's no beauty, and might be placedAs ...
Low hidden in among the forest trees An artist's tilted easel, ankle-deep In tousled ferns and mosses, and in these A fluffy water-spaniel, ...
No not to-night, dear child; I cannot go; I'm busy, tired; they knew I should not come; you do not ...
"GOOD Heavens, man, what a freak of taste! What blindness to form and feature! The girl's no beauty, and might ...
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