Dedication (Lewis Carroll Poem)
Inscribed to a Dear Child: In Memory of Golden Summer Hours And Whispers of a Summer Sea Girt with a ...
Inscribed to a Dear Child: In Memory of Golden Summer Hours And Whispers of a Summer Sea Girt with a ...
Dedication Inscribed to a dear Child: in memory of golden summer hours and whispers of a summer sea. Girt with ...
To think that Spinoza died polishing eyeglasses. That Blake got tired at a printer's shop waiting for that day's conversation ...
And art thou he, now "fallen on evil days," And changed indeed! Yet what do this sunk cheek, These thinner ...
What we are? We say we want to become what we are or what we have an intent to be. ...
No, though our all be spent-- Heart's extremest love, Spirit's whole intent, All that nerve can feel, All that brain ...
'Twas at that hour of beauty when the setting sun squandereth his cloudy bed with rosy hues, to flood his ...
BUT two miles more, and then we rest ! Well, there is still an hour of day, And long the ...
New England. 1 Alas, dear Mother, fairest Queen and best, 2 With honour, wealth, and peace happy and blest, 3 ...
LARA. CANTO THE FIRST. I. The Serfs are glad through Lara's wide domain, And slavery half forgets her ...
An imaginary composer.] I. Hist, but a word, fair and soft! Forth and be judged, Master Hugues! Answer the question ...
I. You're my friend: I was the man the Duke spoke to; I helped the Duchess to cast off his ...
I. Said Abner, ``At last thou art come! Ere I tell, ere thou speak, ``Kiss my cheek, wish me well!'' ...
WHEN Nature her great master-piece design'd, And fram'd her last, best work, the human mind, Her eye intent on all ...
The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that ...
'Draw three cards, and I will tell your future . . . Draw three cards, and lay them down, Rest ...
A quay with vessels moored Thomas To India! Yea, here I may take ship; From here the courses go over ...
Chorus-O aye my wife she dang me, An' aft my wife she bang'd me, If ye gie a woman a' ...
The woman singeth at her spinning-wheel A pleasant chant, ballad or barcarole; She thinketh of her song, upon the whole, ...
If it is true, what the Prophets write, That the heathen gods are all stocks and stones, Shall we, for ...
To see a world in a grain of sand And a heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the ...
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