November (John Clare Poem)
The landscape sleeps in mist from morn till noon; And, if the sun looks through, 'tis with a face Beamless ...
The landscape sleeps in mist from morn till noon; And, if the sun looks through, 'tis with a face Beamless ...
Across the wet November night The church is bright with candlelight And waiting Evensong. A single bell with plaintive strokes ...
A sinner was old Captain Dan; His wives guv him no rest: He had one wife to East Skiddaw And ...
She's gone -- and twice the summer's sun Has gilt Regina's towers, And melted wild Angora's snows, And warmed Exina's ...
' SISTER, you've sat there all the day, Come to the hearth awhile; The wind so wildly sweeps away, The ...
The winter wind is loud and wild, Come close to me, my darling child; Forsake thy books, and mateless play; ...
The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and ...
SEA, SEA RIDER The man who owned the bookstore was not magic. He was not a three-legged crow on the ...
ANOTHER METHOD OF MAKING WALNUT CATSUP And this is a very small cookbook for Trout Fishing in America as if ...
When sorrow lays us low for a second we are saved by humble windfalls of the mindfulness or memory: the ...
I. How well I know what I mean to do When the long dark autumn-evenings come: And where, my soul, ...
I. Oh, what a dawn of day! How the March sun feels like May! All is blue again After last ...
MY lov'd, my honour'd, much respected friend! No mercenary bard his homage pays; With honest pride, I scorn each selfish ...
Long ago in a poultry yard One dull November morn, Beneath a motherly soft wing A little goose was born. ...
Coldly, sadly descends The autumn-evening. The field Strewn with its dank yellow drifts Of wither'd leaves, and the elms, Fade ...
And the first grey of morning fill'd the east, And the fog rose out of the Oxus stream. But all ...
SWEET flow'ret, pledge o' meikle love, And ward o' mony a prayer, What heart o' stane wad thou na move, ...
WHEN chill November's surly blast Made fields and forests bare, One ev'ning, as I wander'd forth Along the banks of ...
WHEN chapman billies leave the street, And drouthy neibors, neibors, meet; As market days are wearing late, And folk begin ...
A Tale "Of Brownyis and of Bogilis full is this Buke." -Gawin Douglas. When chapman billies leave the street, And ...
I shall not sing a May song. A May song should be gay. I'll wait until November And sing a ...
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