The Little Mourner. (Henry Alford Poems)
``Child, whither goest thou Over the snowy hill? The frost--air nips so keen That the very clouds are still: From the golden folding curtains The ...
``Child, whither goest thou Over the snowy hill? The frost--air nips so keen That the very clouds are still: From the golden folding curtains The ...
World of sorrow, care, and change, Even to myself I seem,As adown thy vale I range, Wandering in a dream:All things are ...
New formed Adam of the reddish earth, Exilde from Eden, Paradice of pleasure By Gods decree cast down to woes ...
Thou, run to the dry on this wayside bank,Too plainly of all the propellers bereft!Quenched youth, and is that thy ...
I.MY lay is ended! closed the circling year, From Spring's first dawn to Winter's darkling night; The moan of sorrow, ...
I, a princess, king-descended, decked with jewels, gilded, drest,Would rather be a peasant with her baby at her breast,For all ...
This talk about the journalists that run the East is bosh,We've got a Western editor that's little, but, O gosh!He ...
Where the short-legged EsquimauxWaddle in the ice and snow,And the playful Polar bearNips the hunter unaware;Where by day they track ...
Twice one are two; twice two are four.I can still hear it floating thro' the old school door: Those childish ...
THE storms seem fled, the Sun's warm beamDarts chearful o'er the sparkling stream,And melts in tears the gelid snow,Stern Winter ...
Now thou art gone, O BURNS ! to thy last bed,Where Kings and Ploughmen, Wits and Fools, are laid;Nor softer ...
DARK is the cloud which hov'ring o'er the mind,Shades the bright promises of early youth;Nips all its blossoms, blights the ...
Brothers, what are we to thinkWhen we muse upon strong drink? Is it bad or is it good? Is it ...
There are who lord it o'er their fellow-men With most prevailing tinsel: who unpen Their baaing vanities, to browse away ...
"Tout aux tavernes et aux filles." Suppose you screeve? or go cheap-jack? Or fake the broads? or fig a nag? ...
Pure fasted faces draw unto this feast: God comes all sweetness to your Lenten lips. You striped in secret with ...
This talk about the journalists that run the East is bosh, We've got a Western editor that's little, but, O ...
It was wet & white & swift and where I am we don't know. It was dark and then it ...
(To Mrs. Henry Richards) Isaac and Archibald were two old men. I knew them, and I may have laughed at ...
Who is the happy husband? Why, indeed, 'Tis he who's useless in the time of need; Who, asked to unclasp ...
After two sittings, now our Lady State To end her picture does the third time wait. But ere thou fall'st ...
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