The Fire of Drift-wood (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poem)
DEVEREUX FARM, NEAR MARBLEHEAD. We sat within the farm-house old, Whose windows, looking o'er the bay, Gave to the sea-breeze ...
DEVEREUX FARM, NEAR MARBLEHEAD. We sat within the farm-house old, Whose windows, looking o'er the bay, Gave to the sea-breeze ...
1 Three fishers went sailing away to the west, 2 Away to the west as the sun went down; 3 ...
A floodlight, a strobe light a light in the window a search light, a flashlight a lighthouse shining in the ...
Called by the girls, to their shape starfish beyond the water's reach in the shrinking pools rocks drying in the ...
Into the sea, the starfish casting them back into the living waters giving them a chance, an opportunity a choice ...
Spiritual beings, on an earthly journey peoples of the waters, missionaries on the dry land finding those in pain those ...
Metaphors of our lives choices we each must make living in relationship people of the water the living waters of ...
At the water's edge the tides licking at the stones, the rocks, shells, the sand lessons of the sermon real, ...
At the high tide mark at the place between the tides small shells, small stones beach glass made smooth in ...
In the rocks, the ledge, the outcropping of the glacier below the cliffs, the lighthouse small tidepools bits of warming ...
The whelk shell, a potential treasure just about the tideline as the tide was going out heavier than to be ...
calling me further venturing out into the ocean, deeper as if they had gone there before sisters together first time ...
A change in my gait, in my breathing walking on the rocks, on the beach in reverent mediation slowing my ...
Called by the girls, to their shape the starfish beyond the water's reach in the shrinking pools the rocks drying ...
Alive, moving in my hands the arms stretching, turning; already warmed, by the sun above a starfish, pulled from the ...
A sweet fragrance a rousing chorus the waves sang your praise crashing on the rocks just after the turn of ...
A foggy day on the ocean, my feet in the warm surf, feeling the water lapping, the movement of the ...
The floor is something we must fight against. Whilst seemingly mere platform for the human stance, it is that place ...
is what we called her. The story was that her father had thrown Drano at her which was probably true, ...
A dear old couple my grandparents were, And kind to all dumb things; they saw in Heaven The lamb that ...
Long Pont's apparitional this warm spring morning, the strand a blur of sandy light, and the square white of the ...
A vagueness comes over everything, as though proving color and contour alike dispensable: the lighthouse extinct, the islands' spruce-tips drunk ...
Part I It is an ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three. 'By thy long grey beard and glittering ...
On the fair green hills of Rio There grows a fearful stain: The poor who come to Rio And can't ...
This celestial seascape, with white herons got up as angels, flying high as they want and as far as they ...
The memory of you emerges from the night around me. The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea. Deserted ...
Leaning into the afternoons, I cast my sad nets towards your oceanic eyes. There, in the highest blaze my solitude ...
Dürer would have seen a reason for living in a town like this, with eight stranded whales to look at; ...
From cold Norse caves or buccaneer Southern seas Oft come repenting tempests here to die; Bewailing old-time wrecks and robberies, ...
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