Echo And The Ferry (Jean Ingelow Poems)
Ay, Oliver! I was but seven, and he was eleven;He looked at me pouting and rosy. I blushed where I ...
Ay, Oliver! I was but seven, and he was eleven;He looked at me pouting and rosy. I blushed where I ...
There is a garden where the seeded stems of thin long grass are bowedBeneath July's slow rains and heat and ...
Herr Weiser--! Three-score-years-and-ten--,A hale white rose of his country-men,Transplanted here in the Hoosier loam,And blossomy as his German home--As blossomy ...
IPEAR-TREES, once white with April's garlanding,And apple-trees, whose blossoms pink and whiteWhen May was young were pictures of delight,Have not ...
Oh! yon hills are filled with sunlight, and the green leaves paled to gold,And the smoking mists of Autumn hanging faintly o'er ...
When the fruit trees bloom,Pink of peach and white of plum,And the pear-trees' cones of snowIn the old back orchard ...
A sky that has never known sun, moon or stars,A sky that is like a dead, kind face,Would have the ...
'Twas a brave old spot, and deep was the shadeBy the fast-locked boughs of the elm-trees made,Where the sun scarce ...
The falcon swiftly seeks the north, And forest gloom that sent it forth. Since I no more my husband see, ...
The tall yellow hollyhocks stand, Still and straight, With their round blossoms spread open, In the quiet sunshine. And still ...
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