In a City Garden (Trumbull Stickney Poems)
How strange that here is nothing as it was!The sward is young and new,The sod there shapes a different mass,The ...
How strange that here is nothing as it was!The sward is young and new,The sod there shapes a different mass,The ...
Unseal the city fountains, And let the waters flowIn coolness from the mountains Unto the plains below.My brain is parched and erring, The ...
We have wandered afar in our hunting for pleasure, We have scorned the soul's duty to gather up treasure; ...
It was a summer evening; Old Kaspar was at home, Sitting before his cottage door— Like in the Southey pome— ...
Beautiful are they, that, ranging on the mountains,Crop the green pasture, and drink at the fountains;Bunching and scattering, and quick ...
Okay, it felt a lot like a lot more than a cold breeze a frigid arctic blast, more like it, ...
A governor it was proclaimed this time, When all who would come seeking in New Hampshire Ancestral memories might come ...
In seventeen hundred, a much hated sultan visited us twice, finally dying of headaches in the south harbor. Ever since, ...
Through the pungent hours of the afternoon, On the autumn slopes we have lightly wandered Where the sunshine lay in ...
A governor it was proclaimed this time, When all who would come seeking in New Hampshire Ancestral memories might come ...
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