Upon The Death Of, Mr. Addison; Inscrib’d To The Earl Of Warwick (Nicholas Amhurst Poems)
If yet, my Lord, your Sorrows find relief,And a short Pause succeeds your weighty Grief;With Candour this unwelcome Verse peruse,The ...
If yet, my Lord, your Sorrows find relief,And a short Pause succeeds your weighty Grief;With Candour this unwelcome Verse peruse,The ...
At the epoch which I write of quite the smartest men in townWere Marmaduke de Coucy and Adolphus Brummel-Brown;They led ...
Dear Anna, -- Between friend and friend,Prose answers every common end;Serves, in a plain and homely way,To express the occurrence ...
Along in early spring time, as the sun starts swinging NorthTo linger with the land it loves, and violets peep ...
Twenty abreast down the golden street, ten thousand riders marched;Bow-legged boys in their swinging chaps, all clumsily keeping time;And the ...
THE man who's wholly ruined, sir, fears nothing;How can he when all's lost to him already?There is a desperate gayety ...
THE VANITIE OF THE VVORLD The Disincantation.ARGUMENT. Crispulus hic, nulli Nugarum Laude secundus, Cui Mens Lucis inops, Stulta Ruina Dom?s; ...
As the dark cloud passed, I in the crimson shadow of the moon viewed the square and the streets an ...
A LONE rose in a garden burned - a quivering flame,But yesterday blindly from out the bud it came;And now ...
Cloying her lips as the honeycomb, smooth are the words of her mouth,But her feet in the paths of the ...
Spring is in the Valley, sap and budding time,A thousand voices rally into sheer, clear rhyme;Swallows are a-wheeling, robins chant ...
I CAN stand for the man with the cute little bow On the back of his green colored hat, For ...
I am Nature, the Mighty Mother,I am the law: ye have none other.I am the flower and the dewdrop fresh,I ...
The Bell in the convent tower swung. High overhead the great sun hung, A navel for the curving sky. The ...
Standing under the fobbed Impendent belly of Time Tell me the truth, I said, Teach me the way things go. ...
in the shadow of the flower is the sting the bee driven by need uses its painful gift to keep ...
NO easy matter 'tis to hold, Against its owner's will, the fleece Who troubled by the itching smart Of Cupid's ...
Dim, as the borrow'd beams of moon and stars To lonely, weary, wand'ring travellers, Is reason to the soul; and ...
I The roaring of Te Whaiau intake weir intrudes as sleep eludes again to soar across the lake on white-tipped, ...
(Goya, an old man in exile, looks at his self-portrait) A bull's neck, still much needed, Deserving exile or the ...
'Tis hard to say, if greater Want of Skill Appear in Writing or in Judging ill, But, of the two, ...
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