Wedding Song (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Poems)
THE tale of the Count our glad song shall recordWho had in this castle his dwelling,Where now ye are feasting ...
THE tale of the Count our glad song shall recordWho had in this castle his dwelling,Where now ye are feasting ...
"Hats off" in the crowd. "Present arms" in the line!Let the standards all bow, and the sabres incline —Roll drums, ...
Tents, marquees, and baggage waggons;Suttling-houses, beer in flagons;Drums and trumpets, singing, firing;Girls seducing, beaux admiring;Country lasses gay and smiling,City lads ...
OR,A DESCRIPTION OF A CAMPIN THE YEAR 1800.TENTS, marquees , and baggage-waggons;Suttling houses; beer in flaggons;Drams and trumpets; singing, firing;Girls ...
All ye who far from town in rural hall, Like me, were wont to dwell near pleasant field, Enjoying all the sunny ...
I can tell balsam treesBy their grayish bluish silverish look of smoke.Pine trees fringe out.Hemlocks look like Christmas.The spruce tree ...
Condemn'd by Fate to way-ward Curse, Of Friends unkind, and empty Purse: Plagues worse than fill'd ...
He was obviously English, in his Harris tweeds and stockings.And his accent was of Oxford, and his swagger and his ...
Hello everybody, hell-frightfully-ho, Just tune your radios all in; I am the gent with the Oxford accentBBC Home Service calling.I'm ...
THE poultry yard is all astir, the cock has ceased to crow,And though I cannot see the light, 'tis morning ...
THE tale of the Count our glad song shall record Who had in this castle his dwelling, Where now ye ...
I RECOLLECT, that lately much I blamed, The sort of lover, avaricious named; And if in opposites we reason see, ...
The south-wind brings Life, sunshine, and desire, And on every mount and meadow Breathes aromatic fire, But over the dead ...
WHEN that Aprilis, with his showers swoot*, *sweet The drought of March hath pierced to the root, And bathed every ...
The day was wet, the rain fell souse Like jars of strawberry jam, a sound was heard in the ...
Long ago in a poultry yard One dull November morn, Beneath a motherly soft wing A little goose was born. ...
Mother of musings, Contemplation sage, Whose grotto stands upon the topmost rock Of Teneriffe; 'mid the tempestuous night, On which, ...
"Reading well is one of the great pleasures that solitude can afford you." -critic Harold Bloom, who first called slam ...
1 SOMETHING startles me where I thought I was safest; I withdraw from the still woods I loved; I will ...
MORNING and evening Maids heard the goblins cry: "Come buy our orchard fruits, Come buy, come buy: Apples and quinces, ...
Mr. Smiggs was a gentleman, And he lived in London town; His wife she was a good kind soul, And ...
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